


Transcendent Fantasy

by MarvelousMind



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Aiden - Freeform, F/M, James - Freeform, Lucy - Freeform, Micheal, Sharon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:25:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1250998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelousMind/pseuds/MarvelousMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When film studios snatched up the rights to the phenomenon that was newly bestselling author Sharon Sword's record setting book series, she had no idea how much work and adventure lay ahead of her in bringing her creation to life onscreen. Or that she might become the object of affection for a few of the captivating actors collaborating closely with her on set. Will she end up producing a blockbuster or a scandal? Either way, her fantasies are about to become maddeningly real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One; Tom

**Author's Note:**

> Famous characters fictionally suggested include Tom Hiddleston, Benedict Cumberbatch, Richard Armitage, and more.  
> NEW READERS: While this fic is setting up relationships and relatively tame (and humorous) for the first few chapters, there will be mature content sprinkled throughout, soon (though the humor isn't going away either) so don't get too invested if some smut down the road is going to upset you. Thank you for all the feed back and kudos, you may not realize it but it helps in SO MANY WAYS!

“Dammit!” the charm bracelet had fallen off her wrist, yet again. She picked it up and mentally apologized to her talisman, promising to get the clasp looked at. It had been an inspiration through so much, had helped her to reach the surreal success she currently found herself laboring to sustain. She struggled to put it back on while juggling her tea and the latest script revisions she was bringing to Stephen for approval.

She almost had it when the papers began to slide out of her arms, papers she hadn’t stapled and would have to trash and reprint if they fell. She desperately clutched at them as they relentlessly slid down her hip and only managed to stop their progress by clamping them between her knee and her hands.

The charm bracelet went flying again and, fractious from her lack of sleep, she derisively called after it “Well fine! Be that way!”

It was involuntarily followed by her tea “Awwww, come on, now that’s just a waste of tea”. As she resentfully watched the spreading brown puddle she remembered where she was; _please don’t let anyone have heard that_.

Someone nearby began to laugh softly and she squeezed her eyes shut, giving herself a mental reminder that she really needed to stop talking to herself out loud.

“You know, you can get thrown out of the country for that.” The charming, teasing tone of the warm baritone voice gave her pause. She knew that voice, though she’d never heard it in person before. She’d already been nervous about inevitably meeting this particular man in person, and this was not the first impression she’d wanted to make. She wasn’t supposed to be introduced to them all until the first read through, still a few hours away.

She hadn’t really wanted to have to make an impression on any of them. It was overwhelmingly exciting that her beloved books were going to be portrayed on the big screen, and thrilling to be involved, but constantly being required to prove herself to everyone was at odds with her inclination towards introversion and this was causing her no small amount of anxiety.

The matter of her shyness, which was already legend among her friends and family and now increasingly speculated on by the media, didn’t help matters. She’d spent the whole night writing potential alternatives for areas she thought might prove weak during the read through (relics from the previous disaster of a script). Really she’d just been working in order to keep her mind off the event, and all the important people attending it that were expecting her to impress them.

She inwardly cringed at her disheveled appearance. When the books became a bestselling phenomenon her publishers and PR people had insisted on putting her through the celebrity polish up, complete with laser treatments, dermatologists, dental visits, stylists, and the hell that was the spa, and here she was meeting Tom looking like a hobo. In threadbare jeans and a too large jumper under an even larger (borrowed) coat, her long unruly and indomitably wavy dark hair barely restrained in a messy chignon at her nape, and sporting her (rarely-worn) glasses.

She took a breath and forced herself to straighten up and meet his eyes “Well, you know how American’s are, we love spilling tea and starting revolutions”. She would have smacked her own forehead if she hadn’t still been trying to regain control of the script revisions.

He laughed politely at her lame remark, but his laugh became genuine as she cast her eyes back down to the spilled tea and a pout settled on her face. She _needed_ that tea…

“Oh now that is a distinctly British reaction. You may be the first American I’ve met that enjoys tea properly”. His charming teasing made it easier to look him in the eye again.

She had to look up do so, his eyes were nearly a foot higher than her own, but they were worth the effort. His eye color was famously mercurial, the pigment able to interpret the ambient light by traversing all the shades of the color palette that existed in the stroma between startlingly bright blue and a deep rich green. Today the cold overcast skies lent them a lovely clear blue-grey quality.

Momentarily lost in contemplating his eyes, she belatedly realized he was reaching out to shake her hand. She managed to wrangle the papers back mostly to one arm and extended her own hand as much as she was able to while he introduced himself.

“Tom” the absurd yet humbly intended formality made her smile and she quietly offered up her own name in return “Sharon Sword” she hated her moniker but the publishers had loved it.

He gently took her hand in his and she was struck, not just by the strength, warmth, and size of his hand, but by the long fine boned fingers.

“Yes, I um… I recognized you from the jacket photo, your eyes are unmistakable.” He released her hand slowly and continued “I ah, truly enjoyed your work and I’m eagerly anticipating the sequels.”

A dry smile broke through his sincere praise “In fact, ever since I broke the news that I’d been cast, my sister has been offering me bribes for any information I can manage to extract from you”. He laughed conspiratorially before continuing “my father is a bit of a second hand fan as well, he was impressed with your ability to ground the fantasy aspects of your stories in scientific theory”.

There was a touch of irony in her smile as she thought about the odd way her degree in biochemistry had ended up paying off. Her first love had always been literature, but her parents had assured her that literature didn’t pay the bills. It had been a long and convoluted path of heartache, hard work, love, and luck before she’d unexpectedly proved them wrong.

There was a lopsided pause in which she realized it was her turn to contribute to the conversation and then panic as her mind went blank. She could talk the ear off those close to her when the occasion called for it, but she was horrible at small talk with acquaintances. The disingenuous art that was big business small talk had only reinforced her aversion to it. Tom saved her from the awkward moment by bending down to retrieve her bracelet.

Her words ran together as a slight rush of panic followed by relief coursed through her “Oh, my goodness thank you, I forgot it had fallen”. She’d forgotten it so thoroughly, she likely would have walked away without it if he hadn’t brought it to her attention.

He smiled enchantingly before tipping his head in inquiry “May I?” A bashful smile granted him permission as she bared her wrist to him, though the heavy and precarious stack of papers in her hands limited her ability to extend her arm without sending them off on another trip to the ground.

His long graceful fingers brushed over her skin as he wrapped the chilled bracelet around her wrist. He paused a moment before quietly speculating “now this is an unusual clasp”.

Truly, the clasp was an oddity that disguised itself as a bead and could be tricky to maneuver. “Yes, sorry. It’s been a bit finicky lately. Falls off whenever it… wants attention” her words had faltered as he had drawn closer to her in order to get a good look at the clasp. He was now standing so close the ends of his open jacket mingled with hers. She could feel the heat from his body and his breath, along with the clean masculine smell she associated with well-groomed men.

He’d been growing his hair out for the film and a curl tickled her cheek as he bent over to fuss with the clasp. He sussed it out and a shiver ran down her spine as his warm fingers pressed into her skin, pushing the clasp shut with a subtle snap.

There was a note of delight in his voice as he declared his accomplishment “There you have it”. He looked up at her, a self-satisfied and beatific grin spreading across his face. It had an instantly endearing quality, and she wondered how many willing victims his charming quirks had inspired. She couldn’t help but smile back, a sparkle of humor in her own eyes, as he slowly straightened up to his full height again. He was much too close and it was unnervingly intriguing.

She managed a quiet “Thank you”.

He brushed his thumb smoothly across the inside of her wrist and kept his eyes fixed on her own as he softly replied “My pleasure”.

Then he politely released her wrist and stepped back out of her personal space. She paradoxically loathed the loss of his warmth and appreciated the ability to remember to breathe normally. Then she issued a silent thank you to her lucky stars for the boon that she wasn’t an easy blusher.

Still smiling, he continued “Tricky bit of business, that”. She looked down at the clasp a moment, and then pressed her lips together in mock regret “Sorry, I’m a writer, I have to make everything complicated.” and shrugged sarcastically as she added “It’s my gift”. He chuckled, intrigued that there was a sense of humor concealed behind her reserve.

A loud voice suddenly boomed nearby, in a near perfect imitation of a disoriented Ozzie Osborn calling for his wife “ _SHARON_!” it issued from the mouth of a young woman wandering around the lot of trailers behind them. When she clapped eyes on Sharon’s back she immediately headed straight for her, continuing in a slightly less loud but no less obnoxious voice “Oh, man. You spilled your tea!” the new arrival looked up from the puddle and then went slightly bug eyed “ _Dude_ , you spilled your tea on…” a sense of propriety seemed to set in and she quickly adopted a slightly more professional tone “I mean I hope you didn’t spill that on his pants.”

Sharon squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to restrain the laugh that was threatening to bubble up out of her throat as Tom raised an eyebrow and smiled tellingly at her assistant, half bemused half bewildered by her.

Sharon turned to her effusive friend and said quietly “Lucy, you remember that little conversation we had about cultural differences here, right?”

Lucy tore her eyes from Tom and looked at Sharon, her face freely contorted with confusion as one side of her lip drew up in a puckered manner that silently communicated ‘eh?’ Sharon raised her eyebrows at her and waited a moment until Lucy made the connection and the realization visibly dawned on her face in the form of slightly panicked embarrassment.

Attempt at a professional demeanor forgotten; she fervently exploded at Tom “DUDE! I _SO_ did not mean your underwear!”

Sharon hid an indulgent grin behind her hand as Lucy continued to verbally stumble in her attempts to clear up her gaff. “I mean of course she didn’t spill tea on your underwear, she just met you!”

Rather than taking any offense, Tom was obviously enjoying this. Sharon had to breathily release the laugh she’d been restraining, which was threatening to burst out of her if she continued to contain it.

Then she rescued a stammering Lucy by turning to Tom and deadpanning “I only spill tea on men’s pants when we’ve been dating for six months, it’s how I say ‘I love you’.”

Tom openly laughed as she directed a sniggering Lucy toward the copy room, an escape she amiably accepted, recovering quickly and throwing a giggly “Bye Tom” over her shoulder as she walked away.

They were immediately interrupted (or rescued) by a crew member who’d arrived in a motorized buggy to give Tom a tour of the set and show him his trailer.

He sat down and turned back to her “Mind if I pick your brain about my character a bit later? I have loads of questions.”

A brilliant smile lit up her face as she was reminded that her beloved characters were going to be brought to life, and would be in the best of hands “Absolutely”.

An answering grin spread across Tom’s face and the driver began to pull away “I’ll a… see you at the read through in a few hours then?”

Sharon nodded as he rapidly retreated, than took a deep breath and marveled at how flushed she felt all over. If this was her reaction to meeting just one member of the cast they’d managed to line up, she was doomed.

How the hell was she going to handle meeting Ben, Richard, Aiden, Michael, James, and all the rest, later?


	2. Moxie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When film studios snatched up the rights to the phenomenon that was newly bestselling author Sharon Swords’ record setting book series, she had no idea how much work and adventure lay ahead of her in bringing her creation to life onscreen. Or that she might become the object of affection for a couple of the captivating actors collaborating closely with her on set. Will she end up producing a blockbuster or a scandal? Either way, her fantasies are about to becoming maddeningly real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there is a lot of exposition about how Sharon came to be so involved in the project and the evolution of her relationship with the director before they get to the read through, but I promise it pays off later. Thanks for bearing with me. (Famous characters fictionally suggested include Tom Hiddleston, Benedict Cumberbatch, Richard Armitage, and many more to come).

Sharon followed Lucy into the copy room, where they’d spent a good portion of the previous day preparing for the read through. The results of their labors, three stacks of scripts, were neatly lined up on the table. All the coversheets simply read ‘ **MOXIE’** , the tongue-in-cheek production codename they’d had to adopt for the film in order to preserve some secrecy.

The actors’ copies had been color-coded to denote their character’s lines and sat in the first stack, the second stack was comprised of the crew’s copies with technical notes, and the executive’s copies made up the third. Sharon contemplated the third stack for a moment.

Lucy knew exactly what she was thinking “Don’t worry, they won’t know what hit ‘em and they’ll love it. Stephen said so too”. Sharon tried to absorb her reassurances, but she had her doubts “I don’t know, their all so stuffy and uptight about having a first timer at the helm of the Script.” Then added quietly “I can’t say I blame them, they have millions riding on this”.

Lucy snorted “Ya well, they gambled and lost when they hired that delusional glory boy. Their lucky Stephen scrapped it and brought you in.” Initially the studios had gleefully hired overnight sensation John Mendel. He’d hit it big with his very first screenplay, an ‘unconventional’ intergalactic thriller film that had stolen the previous year’s box office.

Unfortunately he turned out to be a one trick pony; the adaptation he produced could have been considered satire, if it had actually resembled the original storyline at all. It would almost have been comedic if it hadn’t had so much money riding on it.

Lucy threw her voice deep as she did an earnest impression of one of his, sadly better, lines “‘I’ll love you like I love turkey, when you’re dead and on my table’, seriously, WTF! I swear the guy was stoned out of his mind when he wrote it!” Sharon burst into laughter. That particular line never got old. Lucy added “Can you imagine if Stephen had gone through with it?”

Stephen Jameson had a filmography as long as your arm, perhaps longer. His first film had put him on the map with Sci-Fi in a big way, but it was his gritty dramas that had earned him his shelf of Academy Awards, BAFTAS, and Golden Globes as a director and/or producer. He had an uncanny ability for making smart films that moved and excited people while raking in ridiculous amounts of money. The studios worshipped him.

He was looking for a change of pace, longing to return to fantasy projects, and had fallen in love with ‘ _Valor of the Condemned’_ pursuing the film rights the moment he’d finished reading it. When Sharon wasn’t pinching herself over it, she was deeply humbled by the level of enthusiasm the larger-than-life figure harbored for her books.

He had enough pull in the industry that the studios were humoring him initially. Then the book started climbing the bestseller lists, eventually breaking sales records, and a massively dedicated fan base rapidly began cropping up all over the world. Now the studios were positively drooling, visions of a potential commercial success the likes of franchise films like Harry Potter and LOTR had given them a driving ambition for the project.

Lucy changed the subject, pointing to a piece of paper taped to the wall above the copier and joking “I still say we should have printed that synopsis on the covers”. It was the latest meme-style description the internet had produced of her first book _‘A Shakespeare worthy drama in which the Seven Samurai defend Tolkien’s town of Bree from Hitler, as played by Hans Gruber’._ Sharon snorted appreciatively at the joke every time she saw it. It wasn’t accurate of course, but she could see the humor in it.

Her eyes drifted back to that third stack. “I hate being sneaky like this” she suddenly announced to Lucy, who had no sympathy “Oh, come on, this is gonna be fun! I can’t wait to see the looks on their smug snotty faces.”

The execs were unaware the draft had been partially rewritten and enriched, and Stephen didn’t intend to tell them until they experienced the read through, which was adding to her apprehension about the event.

It wouldn’t be the first time that surprises in the screenplay put the production on halt. When Stephen had been presented with Mendel’s work, he had personally met with Sharon to let her know he was backing out of the project, and to offer her his sincere apologies. The meeting had taken a fateful turn for both of them.

Sharon’s second book in the series had just been released and she had been at a signing all day. They had expected a large turnout, but could never have been prepared for the massive crowd that turned up. She didn’t want to turn anyone away, so she hadn’t gotten breakfast or lunch, just a bite of whatever snack she could sneak in between meeting the people who’d been standing in line for hours, and in many cases… since the previous day.

Dinner with Stephan, and the reason behind it, had made her anxious so she ordered a glass of wine. This came long before their food did, and she drank it on an empty stomach... while reading Stephan’s copy of the ridiculous Mendel script for the first time.

The result was that her shy reserve was forgotten and she’d been, by turns, hilarious and insightful.

In her loosened up state, she and Stephen hit it off. They’d discussed and written down their ideas for the project at length, until the restaurant closed. They were so often on the ‘same page’ with each other it was uncanny and he was delighted and enthused for the project all over again.

Sharon received a call from him the next morning, still in bed and bleary eyed from the late night. He’d sounded absolutely chipper as he delivered his ultimatum “I will to do the film, on the condition that you write the screenplay”.

Icy panic instantly blew the sleepy fog off her brain and she’d sat up so hastily she’d fallen off the bed. “But I have no idea how to write a screenplay!” There were millions riding on this and the global visual reputation of her books at stake.

His voice was all smiling confidence as he replied “Vivy, I honestly believe you are capable of anything you set your mind to. No one else will be able to do this story justice the way you can”.

That brought her up short, could she live with the possibility of Mandel’s script in another director’s hands? Her gut screamed an emphatic ‘No’. Sharon didn’t argue with her gut. Swallowing her panic and setting her resolve, she’d agreed.

The studio had not. No one was willing to take another gamble on inexperience.

Stephen threatened to walk and the execs humored them just long enough to produce a preliminary script. Two hours after Sharon submitted their rushed draft to the studio, Stephen received a call.

The film was not only green lit immediately, they had increased the budget… substantially.

From that point on the buzz over the project just kept building. They were inundated with people that wanted to be involved, the best of the best in every field. Stephen had sent Sharon back home to East Texas with instructions to block it all out and focus on revising the script until SHE was happy with it.

When pre-production was set to start, Sharon relocated to London at Stephen’s request and presented him with her final draft. At first she waited nervously while he read it, but eventually she left the room because analyzing his every expression was making her crazy. An hour later he came out of the room to find her sitting in the hall with her head between her knees, breathing deeply to ward off the nausea her nerves had stirred up.

He scowled at her a moment as she raised her slightly green tinged face to hear his verdict. “You! You, you, you are amazing! I knew you could do it!” in one excited step he’d crossed the hallway and yanked her into his arms in a crushing hug. “This is brilliant!”

Lucy interrupted her thoughts again “You know I got this, it’s time for you to go clean up.”

Sharon sighed “Your right. I’m going.” She pointed out the stack of papers she’d struggled in with “Can you make sure Stephen gets one of those alternate dialog copies to look over beforehand?”

Lucy put on her ‘can do’ voice “You got it” and pushed Sharon towards the door.

As Sharon shuffled along, Lucy added “and you better do it up right, or else I’ll send Louise from hair and makeup over.” She made a dramatically malicious face “She’s _dying_ to get her hands on your hair” and followed it with an evil laugh.

Sharon attempted to defend herself, “It’s supposed to be casual” but she picked up her pace.

She only made it a few steps outside before Lucy eagerly fired back, standing in the doorway, enthusiastically wiggling her hips, “Pshffft I think you’re forgetting the party at Stephen’s house afterwards”.

Sharon volleyed back another argument “It’s just dinner!”

Lucy cocked an eyebrow and put on her driest voice “It’s an excuse for everyone to get shitfaced and break the ice. That’s a party in my book”.

When Sharon reached her flat she found a half dead extra from Les Misérables looking back at her in the mirror, though her glasses kind of ruined the effect. _I have to stop spending so much time with her laptop and get some sleep_.

She’d put in her contacts, applied the usual makeup, and attempted to hide the bruised shadows smudged beneath her eyes. After she was satisfied that she looked something like herself again, a thirty minute battle armed with a straight iron, ensued. When she managed to triumph her dark hair fell, shiny and straight, nearly to her waist. “See I didn’t need Louise” she told her reflection cockily. _Must stop talking to self out loud._

She left the house early wearing jeans, a white shirt, a very feminine grey cardigan, and a pair of tall gray heels. With so many of the actors being over six feet tall, she needed the height to avoid having a crick in her neck by the end of the evening.

Two hours later she walked into the room where the read through was being held. She was fifteen minutes late and slightly disoriented by the trip.

Her journey had started out ordinarily enough, she’d been delayed on the Tube when a tourist in front of her was having trouble with his Oyster card and asked for her help. Then things got weird.

He recognized her and asked for an autograph, loudly. The next thing she knew there were over twenty people gathering around her calling for autographs or photos, and asking about the movie.

Initially she’d just been slightly mortified that she was a nuisance to the other travelers and causing a spectacle in the tube. Then the frenetic quality of the crowd became genuinely alarming.

Accustomed to keeping a lower profile, this was not the type of fan interaction she’d previously experienced. By the time she’d graciously appeased them all with autographs and pictures ( _why the hell would anyone want a picture of her?),_ she was late.

The actors were already seated and waiting at tables, arranged in a large U and taking up most of the room. The walls were lined with studio executives and some of the crew, including a small documentary style film crew hired to capture behind-the-scenes footage for the fans. She caught site of Stephen and made a beeline for him.

When he saw her, his face lit up “Ah! Vivy!” He’d placed a hand on her back and steered her straight to the center of the tables.

The first person she made eye contact with was Tom. For the briefest of moments his eyes flicked down from her face and then back up to it again, taking in the change in her appearance from this morning. He gave her a warm smile and waited attentively.

Stephen raised his voice to address the room and the chatter died down. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the reason we are all here. Miss Sharon Sword”.

She took a deep breath and smiled nervously at everyone, completely unprepared for the introduction. Public speaking terrified her; one of her professors had even gone so far as to label her ‘glossophobic’. The only trick she’d found for getting through it was to treat it as though she were acting a part, putting on someone else’s confident face and forgetting her own awkward one.

She took a deep breath “Hello everyone. Please forgive me for being late.” She tipped her head towards Stephen and stage whispered “I don’t think I can take the tube anymore”.

There was a brief rumble of laughter throughout the room before she continued addressing them, “I feel ridiculously privileged to see this day, and would like to thank you all for agreeing to set out on this amazing journey with us. I promise I’m not going to give you a Saint Crispin’s day speech.”

There was another rumble of appreciative laughter during which she took in the room. Her eyes found some of the pre-production crew members she’d already come to know and love, and she tried to control the swell of emotion that accompanied her words “We have the most miraculous crew and an absolutely astounding cast, and I would like you all to know,” She paused again as her eyes fell on Stephen and the threat of tears burned her throat.

She managed to succeed in holding it off but it created a thick note of moving sincerity in her voice as she looked round at everyone and continued “that as I place my creation, which is very dear to my heart, in your incredibly capable hands… I have complete faith in all of you”.

There was a round of applause and she noticed Stephen regarding her with curiosity before he grinned his approval. The introduction had been his way of pushing her, again, in his fatherly way. Always pushing her to be more and seeing if she would rise to the challenge, and she’d managed to, again. She shook her head and squinted a playful promise of vengeance back at him.

Everyone had begun to talk among themselves as the scripts were handed out and she headed for her designated chair, beside Stephen’s empty one. She looked around at all the actors, taking in the surrealism of the scene before her. Filled with faces she knew, worn by people she didn’t.

She smiled back at those who made eye contact with her. Richard was looking down at the script that had just been placed before him, when suddenly his startlingly clear blue eyes peeked up at her from under his heavy brows, a strand of dark hair falling in his eyes as he raised his face. Her step faltered slightly and he offered her a coy smile, which she shyly attempted to return. At least, as much as the sudden hitch in her breathe would allow.

She arrived at her seat to find Tom in the next chair over. He stood up as she approached and smiled charmingly at her, adding a sweet but quiet “Hello again” as he slid her chair out for her.

She smiled back and murmured “Thank you” as she took the offered seat. The large group they needed to fit at the tables meant the chairs were closely spaced together, and Tom’s thigh brushed hers as he rounded his chair and sat down. She tried to not to focus on the sensation this created in her stomach.

Distraction came in the form of Ben’s distinctive voice, issuing deep and gravelly from Tom’s left. It was heavy with mock indignation “Hang on, what do you mean ‘again’, what is this ‘again’ business Tom?”  Tom grinned hugely, lowering his head and chuckling silently as Ben continued to rib him.

“This was supposed to be everyone’s first time meeting her, and you’re telling me you’ve already managed a private introduction?” Tom raised his head; his grin all clenched teeth, as his chin jutted forward. He raised his eyebrows and shoulders in a gesture of feigned shame as he played along.

Ben couldn’t keep a laugh out of his voice as he added “You bastard…” Sharon couldn’t help laughing at the interaction, exactly as Ben had intended.

Tom good-naturedly crossed his arms and leaned back to allow Ben to introduce himself to Sharon. When Ben leaned towards her, his tone changed from teasing to sincerity. “I’m Ben by the way” he smiled disarmingly and extended his hand to shake hers.

To compensate for the inadequate height of his chair, Tom was sitting with his long legs fairly wide apart and when Sharon leaned in to reach for Ben’s hand, most of her thigh rubbed against Tom’s. He didn’t retreat from the contact, only raised his long fingers to his softly smiling mouth and played distractedly with his lip.

Then Ben took her hand she was struck by the warm elegance of a beautiful masculine hand for the second time that day, followed by another onslaught of beautiful eyes. If Tom’s eyes were the mercurial sea, then Ben’s were a supernova, in shades of manganese and chartreuse.

She smiled back at him and tried to ignore the mass butterfly uprising taking place in her belly as he continued “Lovely to meet you. I’ve found myself quite taken with your books and I’m delighted to have the opportunity to work with you”.

She was failing at ignoring the butterfly riot induced by Ben’s attention and the heat from Tom’s thigh, and was charmed beyond the ability to think of a good response other than “That’s very kind of you to say. I’m a fan of your work as well”.

He released her hand and as she sat back he impishly tipped his head towards Tom. Abruptly lowering his voice and speaking out of the side of his mouth with mock conspiracy “Have you discussed your character yet?”

Tom’s toothy grin reappeared and he laughed softy as he assured him “No”. 

Ben grinned magnanimously and patted Tom’s back, teasing “Excellent, your forgiven then” as he made a show of sitting up fully in his chair and facing forward.

Tom lowered his head, shaking it at his friend’s antics, and Ben winked at Sharon. She couldn’t help but laugh, aware that his playfulness had been intended to draw her out, and charmed nevertheless.

The step of heavy boots beside her drew her attention and she turned to see a tall muscular man, dressed from head to toe in leather, approaching Stephan. He spoke to him in a low tone and Stephen pointed to an empty chair at the table. He removed his sunglasses, revealing nearly black eyes set in a beautifully chiseled face as he walked to his appointed seat, sliding into the chair and looking around nonchalantly. True to his casting, he exuded dark charm; this was their antagonist, Michael Rhys.

Stephen spoke up to address them all again. “Ok now that we’re all here, I have an announcement to make before we begin. Meagan, who as you know is playing the part of Lufian, is having some unforeseen issues relocating and, unfortunately, won’t be here with us today”.

All of them, including Sharon, turned their faces to Stephen in unified concern at this. Meagan was cast in a crucial role; Lufian was a co-commander of the core group, and intimately connected to all the other leads. She wasn’t always center-stage but she was the glue of the saga. They couldn’t do the read through without her.

Stephen smiled craftily at Sharon as he continued “aaaand since no one else here is more familiar with the script, or the character, than Sharon herself…I’m going to ask that she read Meagan’s role for us today”.

Sharon froze and stared in wide-eyed horror at Stephen as she tried to grasp what he’d just said.


	3. The ‘Read Through’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When film studios snatched up the rights to the phenomenon that was newly bestselling author Sharon Swords’ record setting book series, she had no idea how much work and adventure lay ahead of her in bringing her creation to life onscreen. Or that she might become the object of affection for a couple of the captivating actors collaborating closely with her on set. Will she end up producing a blockbuster or a scandal? Either way, her fantasies are about to becoming maddeningly real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more film insight and character establishment. Inspiration music: Escala - Clubbed to death

Lucy was in the midst of setting Sharon’s laptop in front of her when Stephen made the announcement and she unintentionally mimicked Sharon’s reaction. The onslaught of shocked faces brought Stephen to Sharon’s side.

“What’s the problem?” he whispered. Sharon had been planning on saying ‘ _your joking_?’ but she knew Stephen well enough to know that when he said ‘ _what’s the problem’,_ he was really saying ‘ _this has to be done and I’m counting on you to figure out a way to do it_ ’. 

Sharon tried to construct a persuasive and logical argument, “I have to follow along and take notes, so I can alter anything that sounds wrong or phrasing that’s clumsy with an accent, make sure the dialog flows properly, fix any places that drag” but the anxiety leaden in her whispers ruined the effort.

Stephen wasn’t fazed. “Lucy and I can take care of that when you’re up, and we’re recording this too” he indicated the cameraman., Sharon’s eyes narrowed critically at Stephen, trying to detect whether or not he was really going to push the issue. He smiled challengingly in response. _Damn!_

Her mind began racing for ways to get out of this, “It needs to be read with the right accent” she threw out, trying to retain a whisper through her desperation.

Stephen grinned “Meagan was going to have to fake the accent as well… and truth be told, yours is better.” Sharon grasped at straws as they began a hushed but rapid back and forth

“I don’t know if I can go as northern as Richard’s accent.”

“Then just go with RP”.

“I can’t act”.

“You don’t have to, it’s a read through”

“You know there’s a level of acting required for that!”

“and I know your capable of it, I’ve seen you in interviews”

Sharon’s mouth hung open for a moment and her brows furrowed as she tried to think of something, anything, else. Stephen grinned mischievously “Humor me, Vivy”.

He walked back to the center of the room, ignoring Sharon’s exasperated sigh. Sharon took quick glance around the meeting room at all the executives expecting to be impressed today, before she dropped forward in her chair and laid her forehead on her laptop. A mental pep talk ensued.  Lucy gave her an awkward pat on the back before she walked to her own seat.

Stephen took a deep breath and dove in “Now as you all know, there is a thread of fantasy that runs throughout this story. What you may not know is that this is not, as everyone assumes, a story set in the past or even an alternate universe.” Out of fear of being stigmatized as a dystopian genre, her publishers had kept some details of the backstory quietly mysterious.

“The events of this story are set in a post-apocalyptic future. Though so far into that future, post global meltdown, that there is very little evidence of our current civilization, and no memory of it. There are no cities as we now know them, race as we now define it has ceased to exist, and gender lines are, shall we say... different. The world has started over from scratch. This gives us a historical flavor, without the constraints of historical accuracy.” There were murmurs of interest in the room as recent internet rumors were confirmed. Sharon had inadvertently dropped a few clues about this while interacting with fans, and they were having a field day with it online.

Sharon finished her internal pep talk and sat up, taking a deep bracing breath. Tom’s lithe hand reached out and patted hers sympathetically. Unable to shake her lingering uncertainty, she made a poor attempt at a smile in response.

He deliberately caught her eye, the right side of his mouth drawing up and his eyebrow following suit. His blue eyes were wide with an open kindness and his smooth fingers lingered a moment, giving hers a warm squeeze of encouragement.

She tried not to pay attention to the way the warmth from his hand seemed to spread up her arm and radiate through her chest. His unspoken reassurance helped settle her resolve, earning him a more determined smile as she stifled her anxiety and committed to voicing the part.

Stephen’s voice droned on in the intense silence of the, mostly attentive, room. “The fallout has had an evolutionary influence, I won’t take up everyone’s time with the genetic mumbo jumbo here, but it has affected people, and the people in the region the story is set in have experienced beneficial changes. The people of these three adjoining kingdoms are ‘different’ from the rest of the continent. They have faster metabolisms, longer lifespans, they heal faster, they react quicker, they don’t suffer from common illnesses, and they have higher endurance levels.”

“That means these roles are very physical and will entail extensive fighting and stunts… among other things.”  I brief titter of nervous laughter spread round the table. “Costume fittings and possibly camera tests begin tomorrow. You will also receive your weapons. There will be a few weeks of fight training and riding lessons, or refreshers for some of you, and then on to filming.” He finished in a rush.

“Now, just to hit the high notes for those who may not have read the book” He looked around haughtily at everyone, his eyebrow comically arched. “Fyren, who will be played by Michael”, Stephen gestured to him and he nodded graciously “realizes this after a disastrous military clash between their fathers. Now his backstory hasn’t been fully revealed to the readers yet” he looked meaningfully at Sharon, “but he sees these kingdoms’ advantage as a threat to his own. He encourages his people, the Feormynd, to see them as such and calls for their extermination. He is brutally committed to hunting them down and has the numbers to overwhelm the kingdoms… but only on an individual basis.”

Stephen gestured to the large group at the tables. “That brings us to the reason for our journey and this merry troupe, necessary for the safe passage of our noble prince, played by our noble Ben.” A chuckle rumbled through the room and Ben smiled appreciatively.

“We have displaced royal siblings, Lufian and Raedan” Stephen indicated Sharon and Richard “The northern kingdom, Freod, having fallen unexpectedly, and effectively dissolving her betrothal to Leoht.” Stephen indicated Ben “The siblings carry on, repurposing themselves as warriors, they defend their adopted kingdom and its prince, Leoht.”

“As does Leoht’s cousin Beorgan” Stephen turned and motioned showily at Tom, “his closest friend and advisor, fiercest defender, and the second Marshal of Hyrde – so the second in authority of our group.” Stephen added with a vacillating gesture and a hedging tone “He is also Lufian’s chosen, which causes… some friction” another titter of laughter from those that had read the book.

“The king has sent Leoht to propose an alliance, through marriage, with the Eastern kingdom of Liss and his faithful guard accompanies him.” Stephen smiled ironically, adding “It doesn’t go well” followed by more laughter.

“The party returns home to find Fyren has already struck and the seat of the kingdom has been razed to the ground. They set out for the southern city, hoping their people have fled there but are diverted in-route, to a city in Liss, incidentally occupied by Naedre the Queen Regent of Liss”.

Tendrils of tension seemed to take hold of everyone in the room, permeating the air as Stephen indicated the actress who was to play Naedre. Jenifer was a veteran, highly regarded, considered box office gold. She knew it, and made sure everyone around her acknowledged it as well. She sourly glanced up from her phone and gave everyone a negligible wave of her hand before returning to it.

Stephen pretended not to notice and went on “Drama ensues.” Another good-natured laugh from the nervous actors as they shook off the moment of tension “When the dust settles and they are able to resume their journey, they realize Fyren is nearly on the south doorstep of their vulnerable host city”.

“I think that’s probably enough to get us started. I know some of you received a preliminary script, but it has been revised, so this will genuinely be a cold reading in many parts” there was sudden murmuring from the execs around them; Sharon did her best to ignore it, as did Stephen.

“And I’d like to encourage you all to relax and do your best, no one is judging you on this”. While everyone smiled appreciatively at the reassurance, a sudden atmosphere of anticipation took hold as they gathered up their scripts, indicating no one was buying it.

Holly, their script supervisor, carefully read out the opening set up, a minor prologue containing a very brief flashback to the betrothal of Lufain and Leoht. There were a few giggles as Holly recited the stage directions “Leoht kisses Lufian tenderly”, mostly because Ben playfully mimed a kiss at Sharon, his humor was infectious and a breathy laugh escaped her, breaking the tension she’d felt welling up. Holly finished up, bringing them to the fall of the northern kingdom.

Richard prepared to start them off and Sharon tried to focus, coaxing out the character in her head to come and play, so she could pull this off. Raedan, Lufian’s brother, arrives to inform his sister that their people were slaughtered. On their father’s orders, when defeat was eminent, her brother was taken to safety against his will. His retelling as he informs Lufian of the demise of their people is a painfully emotional scene. Even without a fully performed delivery, the light tone of the room was transformed before Richard even finished the first sentence.

His voice was silken chocolate as the lines rolled off his tongue, and yet he still managed to lace it with pain and frustration. His piercing crystal eyes locked onto hers and suddenly she was immersed in the character. Everything became instinctual, especially when those eyes kept peaking up at her from the page while they continued their dialog. The brightly lit ballroom and the people watching them faded from her focus, still present but on the peripheral, muted as she focused on him, and together they breathed life into the characters.

As the scene moved on to Richard and Ben confronting the king over his decision to dissolve the betrothal, Sharon unclenched the fists she hadn’t even realized she’d tightened.  She turned to follow the current dialog, and instead was greeted by Tom’s bright grin of approval. She smiled back, flattered by his unspoken praise, and he winked showily in return. The rhythm of her heart stuttered for an instant before he turned away to follow the dialog.

It seemed like no time at all and they were back to her, as Leoht informed a stoically grieving Lufian that their betrothal was broken. Ben turned to look at her, already slightly in character despite the casual setting, a sudden hint of heartache and desire in his eyes as he looked at her. Though he said the lines in a gentle voice, gravelly with suppressed pain, those eyes locked onto hers and she felt the air leave her chest as if he’d struck a physical blow.

It took a conscious effort to draw in breath, to banish the constriction in her chest and respond. “You know me well Leoht, you know I recognize the significance duty, and you know my thoughts on marriage. It’s your duty to do what’s best for your people, and being someone’s wife has never been a prospect I’ve sought.”

She laughed humorlessly “I never believed I’d succumb…” Lufian’s gallant mask briefly slips, revealing a sliver of misgiving as she adds “till you.”

She paused, as if gathering her resolve, the mask slips back into place and she smiles sweetly “You’re going to make someone a very happy wife, and I shall be content in that knowledge… and it will be enough.”

Ben’s face fell slightly before he conjured a smile and read the next lines, in which his character hides his disappointment and reluctantly goes along with Lufian’s supportive attitude. His deft handling affirming to everyone in the room, he was going to be brilliant in the part.

Sharon’s next scene was with Tom and it was, as her brother-in-law would say, a doozy, Holly read the setup:  Lufian practice fighting on the training field. She’s a gifted fighter and Beorgan stops to admire the show, till he realizes she’s overdoing it. Knowing the lack of control is rare for her; he steps in and ends up having to restrain her.

With his arms wrapped around her, she finally falls apart and morns the destruction of her people, opening up for him as she wouldn’t with anyone else. It’s a meaningful moment, full of inferences that these two are close and yet have never allowed themselves to admit their intense feelings for one another, ostensibly out of duty to Leoht.

Even at this level, Tom’s delivery was heart wrenching, impelling to the point that she felt the sting of tears threating as she said her lines. She was so familiar with the words she didn’t need to look at the paper and the lines flowed beautifully. His eyes, a cerulean blue in the brightly lit room, became the center of the universe and, wholly claimed by spell they’d woven, everything else faded away.

Staring into the pleading pools of his soulful blue eyes, his brow furrowed beseechingly as he professed his love for her in deep dulcet tones. “A piece of my soul was missing before I knew you, yet I was untroubled because I could not feel the lack. Now every moment I spend in your company renders me whole, and every instant without you reminds me that I am not.”

Enthralled, her eyes instinctively fell to his mouth and she very nearly forgot to say her next lines. She rapidly blinked a few times before the words came to her, her reaction luckily consistent with the character, and she finished the scene. Then they were pulled from their insulated reverie by a silence that lasted too long to be ignored.

They both looked round the room in expectation, wondering why no one was continuing, and were met by faces foggily struggling to emerge from the trance they’d fallen into as observers. Even Jenifer’s mobile sat neglected in her slackening hand.

Sharon’s first instinct was that she had somehow screwed up, but the delighted grin on Tom’s face said otherwise. She heard movement behind her as Lucy leaned over and prodded Holly into reading the next scene setup.

As the room came to life again Tom leaned over to whisper in her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin like a caress “Are you sure you haven’t done this before, darling?”

Sharon smiled, feeling shy again but exceedingly flattered, and shook her head. Tom’s lips pressed together, his eyebrows rising as he slowly nodded his approval before he turned to focus on the reading of the next scene. The next two hours passed quickly and in much the same head-spinning manner.

Holly read the final scene directions and her words met with thunderous applause in the large room. Relief washed through Sharon and she resisted the urge to collapse back in her chair as months of tension drained out of her. It seemed she’d actually managed to pull it off.

Stephen stood up to address them all again, a huge grin on his face and a sparkle in his eye “Well, we’re certainly off to a promising start. Great job everyone!” There was another round of applause as he winked at Sharon. It died down and he added “I’d like to remind the cast, dinner at my house this evening. We’re going to be spending the next five months together, let’s kick it off with some fun.”

Everyone had stood up from the tables and begun babbling excitedly to one another. Sharon sought out Stephen, only to find he was lost in a sea of back slapping executives. Someone behind her cleared their throat sassily and Sharon instantly smiled. “What did you think Lucy?”

She turned to find Lucy smiling from ear to ear “That was amazing! You gave me goose bumps. You were like toe-to-toe with the blue eyed beasts of sex incarnate. How the hell could you even function?” She suddenly grabbed Sharon’s shoulders and shifted her aside, eyeing her seat for a moment.

Sharon chastised her with a vehement whisper “It’s not wet Lucy!”

There were enough voices chattering in the room that Sharon hadn’t been worried about being overheard, until she realized someone was standing directly beside her. She turned her head and met Ben’s widening eyes. He’d been about to say something and instead looked to the side with his mouth agape as he tried to collect himself. He failed and ducked his head as he began quietly laughing. Sharon cringed and covered her eyes, before her sense of humor took over and she couldn’t help joining in his laughter.

Lucy, only slightly daunted, grinned and added slyly “I’ll just go get your book and wait over there” she said indicating the hallway.

Sharon peeked at Ben through the gap between her thumb and forefinger as they attempted to stop laughing. He cleared his throat and she dropped her hands. Still smirking, he gently touched her elbow as he leaned in and said “I wanted to congratulate you on the script, it’s a masterpiece”.

Sharon’s eyebrows arched and her eyes widened with the impact of his words “That’s incredibly high praise and very much appreciated, I… I hope to prove worthy of it.”

He smiled appreciatively, but whatever he’d been about to say was cut off by an entire group of people descending on him and vying for his attention. He held them off long enough to verify “You will be at Stephen’s tonight?”

Sharon nodded, hoping she hadn’t done so too vigorously, and Ben smiled at her again before addressing those clamoring for a word with him.

Turning away, she nearly ran into Richard’s chest. He’d been waiting to speak with her and instead had to reach out to steady her as she tried to avoid a collision. She steeled herself before peeking up into those eyes. Even with four inch heels on, her forehead only reached his nose.

He laughed at her innocently coy smile as she looked up at him, and held out his hand. Introductions seemed trite after the intense interactions they’d just had, so he lowered his head towards her and simply stated “Richard” in his sweetly rich baritone. A lock of dark hair fell forward into his eyes again.

She tried to act normal as she took his hand, the third beautifully lithe fingered and masculine hand she’d been treated to today. She simply replied “Sharon.” before suddenly deciding to go for full disclosure, adding “I’m actually quite a fan of your work. “

His expression was pleased, but not necessarily surprised, as he smiled knowingly “Tolkien?”

“Well actually it was before that, although I am a huge Tolkien, uh, geek. I first noticed you as a certain, um…” She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as an unexpected and furious blush took hold of her skin and refused to be dissuaded “Mr. Thornton.”

Richard threw back his head and laughed. The sound was beautifully infectious and she couldn’t help but smirk as the flush on her skin slowly receded.

When he looked back at her he was grinning like a little boy, his crystal blue eyes sparkling with humor. He took pity on her and changed the subject. “Your script is amazing, and one of the best book adaptations I’ve experienced. Well done.”

She jumped at the opportunity to change the subject. “Thank you; really, I appreciate that so much. Actually I was quiet keen to have you in this role. You have an amazing ability to play the line between light and dark and keep people rooting for you. I can’t wait to see what you do with the part.”

He listened intently at first, though still smiling with a twinkle in his eye, and then his face sobered thoughtfully “I was hoping to discuss that with you, when you have time. You are going to be at the party tonight?”

Sharon nodded mutely as Stephen interrupted to address the room “alright everyone, the cars are here and waiting! See you again in an hour.”

Richard gave her a parting smile and filed out the door with everyone else. Sharon looked around the room and tried to savor a little moment of triumph before her thoughts turned to the party.

Stephen’s ‘house’ was actually an older estate in Reading, which his wife had been pouring all her time and attention into renovating. It was a 45 minute drive and Stephen had hired out cars to transport them all. To dissuade anyone from leaving early or driving intoxicated, they were being ‘ _encouraged’_ to stay the night in the guest rooms.

Having always felt rather socially inept, Sharon couldn’t escape her foreboding that tonight… _she_ was expected to be the entertainment for the entertainers.

_Wonder who I’ll be riding there with?_


	4. Limos and Bedrooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When film studios snatched up the rights to the phenomenon that was newly bestselling author Sharon Swords’ record setting book series, she had no idea how much work and adventure lay ahead of her in bringing her creation to life onscreen. Or that she might become the object of affection for a couple of the captivating actors collaborating closely with her on set. Will she end up producing a blockbuster or a scandal? Either way, her fantasies are about to becoming maddeningly real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long, but the good news is that the next chapter is already 90% written so it should be up soon. (I was originally going to post them together but decided against it when I hit 8K+ words).  
> Many characters outside of the main three are based on amalgams of different famous people and given generic names (IE Michael, Jenifer, Steven).  
> 

Sharon found herself sitting in the center of the limo’s backseat, which at the moment she wouldn’t hesitate to deem the most uncomfortable situation she’d ever experienced in a limo. Due in no small part to the fact that her right leg was rather closely pressed against Tom’s muscular thigh while her left arm was rubbing against Ben’s biceps with every motion. Completely oblivious to her distress, both men were already flipping through the script looking for points they had questions on while the source was their captive audience.

Another fully occupied seat ran parallel to the bar built into the side of the car and Stephen sat on the end closest to them. He was grinning smugly, a tumbler of scotch already dangling from his fingertips, and obviously enjoying Sharon’s discomposure over her snug position between the two remarkable men. One side of her lips drew back as she subtly scowled at him for it, and a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile spread over his face while he raised his scotch, tipping it in salute to her. Her lips pursed slightly and her scowl blackened, eyes narrowing with promised retaliation.

Tom glanced up just then, drawing breath to pose a question to her; instead he paused with slightly widening eyes as he caught the look on her face. She quickly wiped her expression and cast her eyes down, chewing on her lower lip with embarrassment.

The right side of Tom’s mouth drew up in an amused half-smile and he turned instead to the target of her fleeting scowl. Stephen was all innocence as he met Tom’s eyes and tilted his head in inquiry. “Sure you don’t want a scotch?”

Tom wasn’t fooled and bemusedly glanced between them, trying to suss out what he’d missed “Um, I think I will. Thank you.”

Stephen reached for the cabinet but looked back at Sharon, cajoling heavily “and you Vivy?” Her eyes flashed fire back at him for a moment. Her jaw tightened and her lips compressed as annoyance and amusement fought for dominance on her face. Tom was grinning and enjoying the byplay.

 _I’m never going to survive this trip_. She dropped her eyes and rubbed her forehead, conceding defeat “Oh, why the hell not?”

Stephen grinned deviously as he handed her the glass, but avoided her scathing eyes “Ben, you in?”

Ben was leaning toward the window, angling the pages to catch the light. Completely absorbed in his reading, he only surfaced for a distracted moment “Yes, that’d be lovely, thank you.”

A slight motion on the other end of Stephen’s seat, beyond Richard and Michael, caught Sharon’s eye and her thoughts turned distractedly to Lucy, who was also immersed in reading. Having only read an initial draft of Sharon’s latest book in the series, she was trying to familiarize herself with the final product so she could assist Holly with continuity during filming. Sharon hoped it kept her too preoccupied to toy with the men sitting next to her. Lucy got bored easily in the car, and found both actors and Englishmen terribly amusing.

 _Loosen up Vivy, their big boys, they can handle Lucy_. Ignoring the little internal voice of doubt that cackled skeptically in response to that mental reassurance, she took a sip of her scotch and contemplated the smooth woodiness of it, how it didn’t scald her throat dry but set a low burn to it afterwards. She wondered if she would ever get used to the novelty of expensive liquor.

Her savoring of the sensation was interrupted by an entirely different sensation, Tom’s thigh as it shifted slightly against hers, effectively commanding her attention. She felt the muscles flexing as they strained against the cloth of his well-tailored trousers, and her mind went to places that had no business in this innocuous situation. Staving off a blush, she downed the rest of the drink in one swallow, just before remembering Tom was still waiting to ask her something.

He’d set his script aside and was smiling at her intently, as was Stephen, and she self-consciously wondered what she’d done now. They lifted their glasses to her, both an answer and a salute, before following her example and downing them in one go.

Tom laughed low as he set his empty glass down, amusement still coloring his voice as he finally got to his question “I was going to ask you, how much of the rest of the series have you planned out, and how much you are allowed to share with us.”

The wheels in her mind began rapidly spinning to consider this thorny issue. She suddenly wished that drink wasn’t burning through her; she had enough trouble being devious without alcohol loosening her tongue. It was a grey area, her publisher insisted against spoilers, but the movie required certain information for the characters and for future development possibilities.

They had all signed non-disclosure agreements but unintentional slip ups were inevitable, particularly during promotional interviews when the actors were effectively grilled for information. Her publishers had been quite keen that she say as little as possible, just to be safe.

Sharon was an open person, especially with those she trusted, and honoring her publisher’s wishes while helping Stephen make the best film possible was already becoming a very tricky tightrope to walk. She opened her mouth to respond and then closed it again when she thought better of what she’d been about to say.

Tom chuckled understandingly at the pause “Oh… I see.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at it herself. “No its, just… well I have 5 books planned out, there was a contingency plan for doing it in three but the second book did so well they agreed to publish the full arc.”

Ben had stopped reading and sat up a little straighter to listen, as did Richard and Michael. With all their eyes suddenly on her, the air in the car suddenly felt stifling as she carefully navigated her answer. “I wrote the script in such a way that the film is its own complete arc, but if subsequent films were to happen I can still tie into it for the rest of the storyline.”

She felt her legs beginning to relax as the drink kicked in and redoubled her efforts to choose her words with care. “If that were to happen, some of the smaller parts for this film would be much more significant in future films and some of the bigger characters in this film… fade out of the storyline, somewhat.”

Ben cleared his throat eyebrows gathering in concern “I don’t suppose you can tell us which parts those are?”

Sharon laughed uneasily “I’m not sure I can, I’m told it might affect contract negotiations if the studio opts to film sequels down the line.”

The disappointed silence was broken by Richard as he lifted his glass and proclaimed with relief “I’m just pleased I’m finally going to have a crack at a character that isn’t killed off.”

As the inhibitions that plagued her around unfamiliar people began to slip. Sharon answered him with a cocked eyebrow and a crafty smile, slowly raising her shoulders in a contrite shrug.

He spluttered on his drink “No?”

She grinned teasingly at him, reluctant to elaborate “I’m not actually a hundred percent certain yet.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her in response, his sparkling blue eyes betraying his act of feigned annoyance, before he laughed affably. “I shall endeavor to make poor Raedan’s case for him.”

Ben claimed her attention as he laid his script across his lap, his fingers brushing her knee as he released the papers. His low voice issued as the laughter quieted “So, the names you’ve used, any logic behind them?” his smile hinted he already had an idea about this but wanted to hear her thoughts.

Sharon smirked affectionately as she mused her answer, the names had been a tricky process, but she’d loved it “Yes, all the names have meanings.”

Tom’s thigh pressed closer to hers again as he leaned forward, his expression taking on an intellectual intensity “They are Anglo-Saxon in derivation, are they not?” it was clearly a subject he was interested in.

She was impressed “They are. Old English specifically. I felt it might help reinforce the concept of the familiar and historical, without being so familiar as to be mistaken for a play on authentic history. Just enough for the suspension of disbelief. Timeline-wise that’s approximately where they are in the ‘reboot’ of the world, if history repeats itself. Though the nature of their origins is such that they aren’t starting entirely from scratch, the social upheaval is similar. This would have been around the 5th century or so. Institutions that were once regarded as great are being torn down. Think the Greco-Persian wars. Coriolanus.”

Everyone was nodding sagely until she mentioned that last point, then they broke into appreciative smiles, all directed at Tom. He acknowledged their looks with a raised eyebrow and humble smile as Sharon continued “The biggest challenge is finding a word with the right meaning… but that doesn’t sound unpleasant in the context. For instance…” she turned to Ben “your character’s name was Athel early on in the first draft, because it means nobleman and hero.”

Ben tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as he considered this “and why did you decide to change it?”

Sharon smirked playfully “Because every time you were addressed it sounded as if an insult were being lisped at you.”

There was a pause of consideration as they all repeated the name mentally, followed by another bout of laughter.

Ben raised his drink “Touché. So what is the meaning behind Leoht?”

“Light. He is the light of his people.” Ben contemplated this as she looked over at Richard “Raedan is to explain and advise and is symbolic of his intelligence and support.” The corners of his mouth lifted appreciatively.

Then she turned to Tom, curiosity bright in his eyes as he waited his turn “and Beorgan is to defend and preserve… to save. Which he steadfastly does for all that he cares about, particularly the welfare of his cousin the prince, and his beloved Lufian.”

Curiosity turned to momentary delight before another question intensified his gaze and his voice lowered flirtatiously “and Lufian?”

A soft affectionate smile spread across Sharon’s face, “She’s named for that which relentlessly drives her to defend what she cherishes” unflinchingly holding his eyes, she finished simply “Love.”

Their eye contact, as well as the silence in the car, was broken when Michael spoke up, his voice sensual despite his ominous tone “and Fyren?”

Sharon tore her eyes from Tom to Michael, slightly abashed at having neglected him “violence, suffering…sin.”

Michael smiled devilishly at that last part and his eyes locked onto hers, drawing out the moment with heavy innuendo as he raised his drink to his lips, but said nothing. Sharon was relieved when Tom broke in with more questions “What about the kingdom names?”

The rest of the trip passed quickly as she expanded upon the kingdoms and their history, concepts that affected all of their characters. Occasionally reminding herself to skim over specifics that might cause issues if they were leaked.

Having fielded nearly thirty minutes of rapid fire questions, Sharon was relieved when Ben addressed one to Stephen instead “You mentioned we would be taking riding lessons. Does that apply to the entire cast?”

Stephen laughed “I know you guys are already excellent riders, but there is a method to my madness there. In keeping with the theme of subtle biological alterations, we decided to go with a very special breed of horse.” He set his drink down and cleared his throat as his enthusiasm for the subject picked up. “Vivy suggested them actually, their called Akhal-Teke. They have a very sleek confirmation and a metallic sheen to their coat; they’ll look amazing on camera. Only they tend to be very picky mounts. The horse master thought it would be wise to give them as much time as possible to bond with their riders before we shoot.”

That insatiable curiosity was back in Tom’s eyes as he turned to Sharon “Are you familiar with horses?”

Stephen interrupted with a laugh “She’s from Texas.”

The corner of Sharon’s mouth drew up in annoyance as she looked at Stephen “You know some people do go their whole lives in Texas without so much as touching a horse, but the world seems to think Texans actually ride horses to work every day.”

He gave her a chastised smirk just as the car rolled to a stop and the driver turned to announce they’d arrived.

Tom opened his door and stepped out of the car, immediately holding his hand out to assist Sharon. She graciously accepted, a small and unsure smile of humble thanks giving away her inner thoughts, _I will never get used to the social graces of chivalry._

She’d dated a few southern boys who’d been highly annoyed by her inclination to open doors for herself, which had annoyed her in turn, until someone attempted to explain that not allowing them to do those things made them feel like they ‘were lettin’ their mamas down’. They’d been good guys; in hindsight she wished she’d appreciated that more. _Don’t go there Viv._

Tom smiled perceptively at her for a moment, seemingly aware of the effect that gentlemanly etiquette wrought on those unaccustomed to it. He held onto her hand much longer than etiquette required, long after she was out of the car and stood before him. Feeling nervous again, she raised her shy eyes to his smiling ones, managing a quiet “Thank you.”

“My Pleasure.” his voice sounding as though he were truly enjoying something pleasurable while he stroked his thumb gently over the back of her hand before releasing it. Again the sensation of warmth ran up her arm and radiated through her chest.

He circled around to the boot as the driver opened it to retrieve their overnight bags. “Which one is yours?”

Sharon joined him, her voice conspicuously low “Um... the one with the sparkly puff paint that says Vivy”

Tom’s lips compressed in an amused smile, which Sharon chose to ignore, as he searched the boot. Having found the undeniable bag in question, he tilted his head in acknowledgment of the artwork and smiled at her in inquiry.

“My nieces wanted to make sure it didn’t get lost when I travel.” he chuckled appreciatively, but didn’t hand her the bag. Instead he retrieved his own bag with his other hand and gestured for her to lead the way into the house.

They were greeted at the door by Stephen’s wife, the elegant, classical, French, and intimidating, Jacqueline. She was not a woman you irritated… ever. She also had a love/hate relationship with Sharon.

She managed to express both of those qualities as Sharon and Tom approached the house. “Viviana! Je suis au bout du rouleau. Why have you delayed my husband so long? I need your help with the cook, she thinks French cuisine is adding bouquet garni to everything, Ça se voit!”

After Jacqueline vented her spleen and kissed her on both cheeks, she took appreciative notice of Tom over Sharon’s shoulder “Comme il est beau!”

Sharon stifled a cringe as she stepped out of the way “Jacqueline, Je vous présente Tom.”

Sharon rarely answered Jacqueline in French, much less formally, and it effectively tipped their hostess off that she’d committed a gaffe. She stiffened slightly before Tom confirmed the situation by smiling and flawlessly chiming in “Enchanté.”

Jacqueline’s smile had turned brittle for a moment but softened in the face of Tom’s charm and his unoffended smile as he set down a bag and took her hand. “Enchanté.”

Sharon could swear she saw a blush before Jacqueline covered it with a wave towards an attendant briskly adding “Mathias will show you to your rooms.” She breezily turned to greet the rest of the car’s occupants as Tom retrieved the bag and headed into the house, but Sharon caught Jacqueline’s indulgent glance back at him as he followed Mathias inside.

When she finally tore her eyes away they landed on Sharon for a moment, whose eyebrow was cocked in mock admonishment. Jacqueline muttered both a confession and a dismissal at her under her breath “Je m'en mords les doigts.” and turned away to greet the rest of the approaching guests.

Sharon’s grin widened as she followed Tom inside, it wasn’t often she got to see Jacqueline kicking herself.

It was a large rectangular estate house, parts which dated back to 1536, and it sat on thirty acres of gardens and grounds in the countryside. There were 20 bedrooms in the main house alone as well as five tudor-style guest houses. All had required extensive repair. The once grand manor had become an eyesore, having gone through many hands and some tawdry tales, before Stephen got hold of it in an auction at his wife’s urging. Jacqueline was determined to see it restored to its former glory.

Sharon was relieved when she saw Mathias was leading them to the rear of the house and up one of the smaller staircases. Though they were not the showy bedrooms off the grand staircase, these more modest rooms were in relatively newer parts of the house, which meant they had the advantage of private bathrooms.

When they reached the top of the stairs; Mathias turned to the first door on the left and opened it, making a grand show of waving Sharon inside “Vee.”

She gasped in pleasure and smiled gratefully. It was one of the bedrooms she was hoping for, it had a wonderful tub “Mathias, vous me gâtez!”

He blushed and smiled. A sweet and unobtrusive man, he spoke in thickly accented and broken English and so preferred not to speak when he could avoid it. He was one of a very select few who had managed to stay in Jacqueline’s employ for over a decade, and was always pleased to receive smiles and compliments, though he preferred not to draw attention to himself.

He moved to the next room, slightly less sure of himself, and opened the door, gesturing more formally to Tom that this was his room. Tom nodded smiling warmly at him “Merci.”

Mathias smiled in return but scuttled off before Tom could say anything more, hastening to help Jacqueline with the rest of their guests.

Rather than entering his own room Tom headed into Sharon’s. He looked around for a moment when he reached the middle of the room and then turned to her and held up her bag in inquiry “Where shall I put this?”

She moved into the tapered entryway of the room and glanced around “The bed is fine, thank you.”

He set the bag down before heading back towards the door, unexpectedly stopping in front of her in the narrow space. So close she could feel his warmth permeating the air around her, could breathe in his scent from it, and could almost feel that lovely low rumble in his voice when he spoke “What is this nickname everyone keeps calling you by?”

He was watching her with those captivating blue eyes that were always so attentive “Sharon is actually my middle name” a sour note crept into her voice as she felt compelled to add “my Gran insisted on it.”

Amusement flitted across his face before she continued “The publishers went with it because they thought it made for a better Pen name.”

He contemplated that and then his voice dropped conspiratorially, taking on more of that low rumble “Mmm…so what’s your real name?”

Needing a moment of respite from that intense gaze she hide a bashful smile by looking down at the floor and tucked her hair behind her ear before she answered softly “Viviana”

When he didn’t respond she glanced back up to find him smiling with intrigue at this revelation before he tried out her name “Viviana...” It rolled off his tongue like something exotic and sensuous.

He lowered both his head and his voice alluringly “May I call you by your first name, Viviana?”

The sound of her name in his mouth was undeniably sensual and a knot quickly formed in her belly; it flustered her to the point that she was barely able to conjure a weak smile and a nod as she looked up at him. That pleased and warm smile that was becoming exceedingly endearing broke across his face as he continued to gaze down at her.

“ _SHARON_!” Lucy’s ‘Ozzy’ bellow erupted from the stairs. The magnetism of the moment dissolved as Tom squinted and his smile became an amused cringe “Why doesn’t Lucy use your first name?”

Sharon opened the eyes she’d squeezed shut in exasperation “She does, she just enjoys yelling that.”

“ _Sharon_!”  Sharon closed her eyes again and pursed her lips in annoyance making Tom laugh before she called out “I’m in here Lu.”

Lucy continued to call up from the stairs, but her voice reverted to her usual offhand manner “Oh hey, their looking for you downstairs.”

“Be right there.” Sharon called back to the echoes of Lucy’s already retreating steps.

Tom headed for the door again turning when he reach the hall “I’ll just go and set my bag in my room and I’ll head back down with you, if that’s alright?”

Remembering Jacqueline’s lament about the cook, she nodded. “I’ll probably be heading into the kitchen for a bit, but Stephen won’t let me stay in there for too long.”

He tilted his head slightly, intrigued as to why she would be needed in the kitchen, and then quickly disappeared round the corner. She passed his brief absence trying to restore the strength to her jellied knees.


	5. Dinner and Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When film studios snatched up the rights to the phenomenon that was newly bestselling author Sharon Swords’ record setting book series, she had no idea how much work and adventure lay ahead of her in bringing her creation to life onscreen. Or that she might become the object of affection for a couple of the captivating actors collaborating closely with her on set. Will she end up producing a blockbuster or a scandal? Either way, her fantasies are about to becoming maddeningly real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY this took so long to post. I had a lot happen and I kept catching colds. This is the last bit of exposition before we get to the real action.
> 
> Reminder: I am active on Tumblr so feel free to ask questions/get updates by following me there, or just visit. http://marvelousmindloki.tumblr.com/ (blog is mostly Tom and Marvel content).
> 
> NOTE: Many characters outside of the main three are based on amalgams of certain famous people and given generic names (IE Michael, Jenifer, Steven). If you want face claims or more info, probably the best place to reach me to ask is my Tumblr blog.

Tom’s curiosity got the better of him and he accompanied Sharon to the kitchen rather than heading off to join the others. When they reached it, he froze in the doorway, appreciation plain on his face at what he beheld. Jaqueline had spared no expense with the vast kitchen. It was in keeping with the style of the manor, but filled with modern commercial appliances. It was also one of Sharon’s favorite rooms in the house. She’d stayed at the manor before they’d located her a flat, and she’d spent a lot of time unwinding in this room.

She spotted Tia, the housekeeper, and quietly attempted to get her attention, scuttling after her as she traversed the kitchen industriously. Tia noticed Tom, and was bearing down on him when Sharon managed to tap her shoulder. Harassed, Tia turned and her strained scowl vanished as she realized who was interrupting her.

She threw her arms around Sharon and gushed in a thick Geordie accent “Vivy!” before throwing a quick glance at the door and lowering her voice to a stage whisper “Thank God you’re here!”

“Where’s Geneviève?” Sharon could see Tom over Tia’s shoulder, bemusedly watching their exchange.

Tia sighed “Wen’ back home, said she missed her family but you know it was because of _her_! Now Mrs. mardy is havin’ trouble findin’ a cook who’ll take her on.”

Sharon smirked slightly at the staff’s tongue–in-cheek codename for Jaqueline. Other than Mathias, she had a tendency to burn through staff. The kitchen staff had it particularly rough. Jacqueline had an exhaustive understanding of how French cuisine should be presented and taste, though no one had ever actually seen her cook. They were, however, incredibly familiar with her ability to micromanage the kitchen.

Sharon frowned at the news, Geneviève had been a delight. “Who did she bring in?” before Tia could answer, a voice that dripped misery in a heavy Dublin accent came from behind Sharon “me”.

She turned to find a woman who looked as dejected as she’d sounded staring back at her, wringing a dishcloth in her hands. Tia introduced them “Vivy this is Shauna.”

Shauna looked exhausted and was so distraught she didn’t even attempt to greet Sharon. Her eyes were red rimmed with suppressed tears as she tried to pull an air of authority around herself. “I’m sorry miss, but now isn’t a good time to have guests in the kitchen, we’re really quite busy.”

Tia grabbed her arm excitedly “Shauna, you want her here. Trust me! Tell her what’s happened.” At Shauna’s hesitancy Tia insisted “She can help, she’s brilliant and she won’t say nothing, I promise.”

Shauna gaged Sharon for a moment before blurting “I fibbed.”

Sharon cocked her head, waiting for further explanation, which Shauna delivered in a sudden rush “I said I knew French cooking, I’ve only ever cooked in pubs, but I needed the job so badly, I lied.”

Sharon took a deep breath and smiled as reassuringly as she could manage. _This is deep doo-doo. Jaqueline is going to flip out._ Shauna continued hurriedly “I went onto the internet and learned as much as I could and got all the recipes, but nothings gone to plan. She’ll sack me for sure… and with a right bollocking too.”

Hastily withdrawing an elastic from her pocket, Sharon pulled her hair up into a bun and headed for the sink to wash her hands before responding bracingly “Show me what’cha got.”

Shauna led them over to the stoves and began listing off the menu and showing her what she had so far. The Coq au Vin was headed for ruin but wasn’t quite there yet, the sauce for the asparagus had separated and would have to be remade. After assessing a few more minor issues Sharon determined dinner was salvageable, but they were running out of time. “Have you prepared the apéritif?”

Shauna looked bewildered. “Thought an apéritif was just a glass of sherry before the meal.”

Heading for the fridge, Sharon elaborated “Jaqueline always insists on an apéritif.” she rummaged around inside before they heard her emit an excited “Aha!” She emerged holding what appeared to be sausage “Geneviève left us a present! We are going to serve Gougères and Saucisson for the apéritif. That should buy us some time.”

Sharon scribbled down specific instructions for the Gougères and Shauna scurried to prepare them. Then she handed the Saucisson to Tia “Slice this up and set it on a platter with that bread and the pickles. It’ll go out when the Gougères are ready, along with the champagne Jaqueline selected for tonight.” Tia nodded and hurried off.

Sharon was assembling the ingredients to remake the sauce when a smooth voice at her ear startled her. “May I be of any assistance?” She’d completely forgotten about Tom.

Her flinch prompted him to lay a reassuring hand on her lower back before they both laughed at her reaction. Simultaneous apologies followed and she turned her head, the laugh still on her lips “Won’t you be needed out there?” She indicated the kitchen door with a nod of her head.

He smiled and jovially reminded her “No more so than you.” Sharon frowned at the door “Oh…right.”

His fingertips pressed gently against her waist, tickling as he coaxed. “More hands would make the work go faster…mine are washed and ready” he held them up and wriggled his long fingers demonstratively. Even if he hadn’t been right, she couldn’t argue with his sweet eager face, “Okay, if you don’t mind?”

Smiling in gracious triumph, he pushed up the already rolled sleeves on his white button down shirt and stepped back, his hands palm up and held out in offering as he declared “I’m all yours.”

Grateful for his eager offer she turned to tell him what he could do, and the commotion taking place behind him caught her eye. The staff was gathering, even from other areas of the house, stealing glances at him and murmuring among themselves.

She handed Tom the ingredients she was holding and reached for the apron pegs beside them. Grabbing two, she tied one on herself before she circled around behind Tom with the other. Smiling indulgently at the group, she silently raised a teasing eyebrow and they disbursed in whispers and giggles back to the tasks at hand.

She reached around Tom’s waist with the apron and he glanced down at it, chuckling as she pulled it across his middle. She was careful not to touch him anymore than necessary, and unsuccessfully attempted to ignore the lovely view that tying it afforded her. As she walked back around to face him he lifted his chin, playfully inviting her appraisal before adding “So, where do we start?”

“Over here” Sharon emptied the ruined sauce and set the double broiler up again. As she was adding ingredients she explained “they’re out of clarified butter and we’re short on time so here is what we are going to do.”

She grabbed a whisk and a dish of cubed butter as he eased in close behind her, peering over her shoulder as she demonstrated “Let it heat, but not too much or the eggs will cook. Then take it off the heat, add a few cubes of butter and stir them in as they melt. When they stop melting put the pan back on the heat and repeat until all the butter is melted and you’ve gotten an emulsion.”

He smirked, but nodded enthusiastically and his fingers brushed over hers as he took the whisk and pan from her. She pretended not to notice the sensation that charged through her skin at his slightest touch and turned her attention to remaking the overcooked bacon for the Coq au Vin as well as various adjustments to the other dishes.

Tom watched her scurrying around the kitchen tasting, smelling, chopping, stirring, and offering encouragement to Shauna while he managed the sauce. Finally the last of the butter melted in the large pan and he cheekily announced “Right, I’ve got a massive emulsion.” somehow managing to imply a similar sounding word while feigning complete innocence.

Sharon snorted as she tried to hold in a distinctly naughty snicker, but it broke from her anyway. Tom’s eyes shone with playful delight and a smirk formed on his lips, obviously thrilled to discover she had a dirty side to her sense of humor. Grinning shamefacedly, she grabbed a lemon and approached him, chagrined that she’d been unable to restrain her juvenile reaction, yet still amused by his inference.

Avoiding his eyes, she added the lemon and stirred it in, tasting it before lowering the heat. Still unable to look straight at him, but very aware of the look she was receiving, she stared at the pan and her voice was still tremulous with humor “That’s perfect, you did it perfectly.”

He didn’t say anything, prompting her to finally look up at him, unable to rid herself of the naughty smile still firmly on her face she deadpanned. “You were incredible.”

He was still studying her with amusement, his smirk spread into a grin and his eyebrow rose as he added with blithe sarcasm “Thank you, I try.” he reached for the spoon and added “Mind if I have a taste?”  

Belatedly realizing he wanted the spoon she was holding, she extended her hand to give it to him, and clumsily bumped his hand as he reached for it, smearing sauce on her fingers as the spoon slipped through them and clattered to the floor between them.

Sharon frowned at her fingers, annoyed at her clumsiness, and Tom laughed softly “That’s all right.” Instead, he took her hand and raised her finger to his mouth, his tongue passing over the pad of her finger as he gently sucked the sauce off the tip. She didn’t realize what he’d intended to do until the heat of his mouth was on her skin, sending a shiver of sinful sensation rocketing through her. His eyes locked onto hers as he felt her tremor, and he smiled flirtatiously down at her as he slowly lowered her hand and licked his lips. “My…that is good”.

She stared up at him, at a complete loss how to handle the sudden turn of events, when Tia rushed in and announced “Their asking for you.”

Sharon tried to reestablish contact with her brain as Tom gently squeezed her hand before releasing it “How long do you need?”

Her spluttering senses returned as both touch and eye contact were broken and she looked around, estimating “Five minutes? I think Shauna can handle the rest after that.” Tom nodded and took off his apron as he headed with purposeful strides out the door. The atmosphere of the busy kitchen seemed to dull without him. Sharon dropped her forehead into her hand. _Please don’t let me have been gaping up at him like a fucking codfish._

When Tom came back, she was helping to unload the Gougères from the oven and rapidly listing off points of advice to Shauna for the rest of the dishes. Tom came up behind her, touching her waist to let her know he was there before speaking softly at her shoulder “I have Ben running interference for us. Is there anything else I can do?” The sudden butterflies in her stomach from his lingering touch had her thinking, _remove your hand before I make a complete ass of myself?_

Instead she smiled over her shoulder at him “I think that’s it, they’ve got the rest.” She turned back to Shauna “Now remember, if Jaqueline asks I just came in and gave Tom a tour of the kitchen, I didn’t touch anything, OK?”

Sharon looked back over her shoulder to verify Tom would collude with them. When he gave her an overly exaggerated wink back she grinned and continued “But your either going to have to take some serious French cooking tutorials or find someplace else to work because she _will_ catch on.”

Shauna nodded dutifully, and then unexpectedly launched herself at Sharon, hugging her tightly as she exclaimed “Bless you!”

As Sharon returned the hug, something else occurred to her “You did prep dessert earlier today, didn’t you?”

Just then Tom heard Jaqueline’s voice outside the door. “Vivy!” he whispered urgently as he grabbed her by the waist, gently disentangling her from Shauna’s embrace. He tugged her towards the area behind the door just as it opened. They both adopted exaggerated poses of deliberation, pretending to study the architecture of the kitchen, but it proved unnecessary; Jacqueline took no notice of them as she bore down on the kitchen staff.

“Where is the apéritif? They’ve been waiting twenty minutes. Tu me casses les bonbons!”

Shauna was filling a tray with the Gougères while Tia filled champagne glasses and lined them up on another tray. Eager to reassure her employer, Tia exclaimed “Wye aye!” before correcting herself “right here… madam.”

Jaqueline gave it an assessing glance “Ouah!…” The rest of her words were lost to them as Sharon grabbed Tom’s hand and used the opportunity to slip out the door unnoticed.

Hushed snickering ensued at their own lame attempt at stealth as they hurried down the hall to join the rest of the party. They both contrived nonchalance as they infiltrated the room, an effect they ruined with stifled laughter upon observing each other’s forced attempts to appear casual.  

Tom’s eyes went to her hair and she remembered the bun and apron just as he stepped in front of her to hide them. She reached back to untie the apron strings and held her breath as Tom reached up and gently tugged the elastic holding her bun, releasing her hair. It cascaded around her shoulders and he smiled down at her appreciatively as he lightly smoothed his fingers over it, encouraging it to resume its former appearance. Erupting at his soft touch, tingles ran from her scalp down her spine. She gulped and focused on his shirt buttons while she repressed the shiver accompanying those tingles.

Since he’d been watching the hall for them, Ben hadn’t missed their shenanigans. He lifted an eyebrow at them as he approached, clearly curious what he’d missed during their absence “Stephen’s looking for you, he was convinced you were deliberately hiding from everyone, I had to get pretty creative with the excuses to keep him from checking the kitchen.”

Tom stepped back from Sharon and clapped a hand on his shoulder “Thanks, man.” Ben shrugged it off with a smile and turned his grin on her, lowing his voice confidingly “If anyone asks, the door to your room was stuck.” Sharon smirked up at him, amused by his choice of excuse.

“There you are!” Stephen declared as he spotted Sharon. Ben and Tom turned as he joined them. Sharon casually looked down at herself before nodding affirmation at him.

Stephen rolled his eyes at her and muttered “Smartass.” then turned to Tom “So you managed to rescue our damsel in distress from her room?”

Sharon’s eyes cut over to Tom for a second, her lips pressing together with regret at pulling him into this rapidly growing deception. She quickly lowered her head, hoping Stephen wouldn’t see her guilty face. Ben caught it though.

Tom’s smile was wide, but no less guilty as he drew a hesitant breath, trying to decide how best to continue the sham. Just then, a member of the staff came by with an apéritif tray, rescuing Tom from having to say anything for Stephen was immediately distracted by the passing tray “Oh, I actually like these.”

As he wandered off in pursuit of the tray, Ben turned to Sharon “Why do I get the feeling I’ve missed something...”

Tom answered with relish “Apparently Sharon is a phenomenal cook. Where did you learn French cooking?”

Sharon shook her head in modest denial “I um… worked in the kitchen of a French restaurant when I was a teenager and I um, sort of studied a bit… on my own.” Hoping to forgo any further discussion on the topic, she added a flippant joke “I was also a huge fan of Ratatouille.”

After polite smiles at her lame joke, Ben looked at Tom and his eyebrows rose in an attempt at understanding for a moment before his face settled into annoyed confusion “Still, no idea what I’ve missed.”

Tom lowered his voice and leaned in to speak quietly “There was an incident in the kitchen. She’s sorted it but it’d be best if Jacqueline didn’t hear of it.” As he leaned back he smiled mischievously with a finger to his lips.

Ben grinned his understanding and nodded at Sharon “I’m sorry I missed it.”

Stephen wandered back over, Gougère and champagne in hand, and resumed the conversation he’d abruptly left “Anyway Vivy, I wanted to let you know, before we arrive tomorrow… you’ll be getting fitted for a costume as well.” He playfully rocked from heel to toe as he smugly enunciated “You’ve got a cameo.”

His eyes were full of anticipation as he waited for her reaction. She didn’t disappoint him.

Jaw visibly tightened, she tilted her head to the side before she swiveled her chin up to jut forward and focused her disbelieving gaze on him, blinking slowly “I’m sorry?”

“You’re going to be princess Brytta’s lady-in-waiting. You’re being measured for wardrobe tomorrow.” Hands in pockets, he grinned from ear to ear and continued to rock back and forth from his heals to the balls of his feet, clearly enjoying himself.

Sharon remained frozen, continuing to blink blankly at him as she restrained her reaction, and he made a face as he provoked “Oh come on. Lots of authors do it.”

She fired back with a cold smile “Rowling didn’t, Collins didn’t.” 

He grinned when she finally took the bait, rapidly calling off “Roth, Green, Myers, Clare, Jackson.”

She interrupted him “That doesn’t count he’s not an author.”

“He co-wrote the screenplays. Flagg, Stockett, Greun. King!” he waggled his eyebrows as if that last name made his point for him.

Stephen’s argument seemed to be contagious as Tom chimed in “Morpurgo”. Ben added “le Carré”.

Sharon admitted defeat by closing her eyes and briefly hanging her head, before she stubbornly tried a new tactic “That’s more than just a cameo though, that’s a speaking part.”

Stephen was still grinning as he held up his thumb and forefinger and squinted at her through the gap “Just a little one. I think you proved yourself capable of that today.” Ben and Tom both nodded in agreement, just as Sharon was taking a breath to argue the point further.

Not knowing them well enough to contradict them on a subject they were experts on, she snapped her mouth shut. A sparkle of victory glinted in Stephen’s eyes as he grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing tray and handed it to Sharon. Her glare of bewildered frustration was comically at odds with the instinctual politeness that made her accept the glass, and Stephen smiled gloatingly. Tom and Ben politely looked away, attempting to conceal their amusement at the interchange.

Pretending to be unaffected by her glare, Stephen abruptly turned to wave over the group of actors who’d been cast in the supporting roles.  “I know you’re all anxious to get a little more information about your characters, so I give you the foremost authority on the subject”. He indicated Sharon with a flourish of his hand before slinking away from her wrath by escaping in the clamor.

She was inundated with questions from the actors, even those with smaller parts were hungry to know what their character’s arc entailed, on the chance that the film did well and warranted sequels. Ben saw Jenifer coming towards him and, apparently having experienced enough of her attention earlier, he hurriedly wandered off to mingle. Un-phased, she descended on Tom and flirted shamelessly with him as they ambled off to chat.

Sharon’s attempts to be sufficiently vague to please her publisher and yet give the actors the hints they craved made for tricky conversation, but she found the mutual interest in the subject matter eased her usual social anxiety and she was getting on surprisingly well with most of them.

It seemed the entire room was in deep conversation with one another when the sensation of being watched began to nag at her; she looked up into the eyes of Michael Rhys.

He stood by himself, occasionally chatting with whomever approached him, but throughout every conversation, she felt his eyes on her. She reacted the way she usually did when she made eye contact with someone unfamiliar, polite instinct prompting her to smile slightly and drop her eyes.

Eventually, during a rare lull in the questions, her irritation with his distracting gaze peaked and she held eye contact with him challengingly. He didn’t look away. He stood there, casually leaning a slim leather clad hip against the doorway, his slightly long dark hair tousled, his carven cheekbones crafting angles in his profile that led down to the corners of his mouth as it spread in a charming smirk, those deep chocolate brown eyes blatantly burning into her. He effortlessly emanated an unsettling amount of sex appeal, the kind with a dark edge.

Ben stepped in front of her just then, smiling kindly and unwittingly ending the visual clash as he spoke in a taut tone “It’s been brought to my attention that Sir Charles would like a word with you.” He leaned in and lowered his voice “He’s being a bit of a bear with a sore head, claims he couldn’t get anywhere near you all evening.”

Sharon frowned anxiously as she looked over at the aged, yet renowned, actor playing Ben’s father. Ben reassured her “I wouldn’t worry overmuch about that, he’s complaining about a lot of things… in fact the last thing I heard him say was”, Ben began a perfect imitation of the stuffy Charles, “There’s not going to be a gratuitous amount of rumpy pumpy in this, is there?”

Sharon squeezed her eyes shut and brought her hand up to her mouth, willing the laughter not to loudly burst out of her. Managing to contain it till she looked up at Ben’s eyes, they were sparkling with delighted humor as he grinned down at her, and the restrained laughter stutteringly escaped on her exhaled breath. Ben laughed quietly as they turned to locate Charles, and she felt the warmth of his hand as he placed it at the small of her back to walk with her.

His voice deepened casually as he kept his eye on their destination but spoke in a quiet aside to her “I must say I am particularly pleased to find you have a sense of humor. This business can get rather dull without it.”

She responded distractedly as she spotted Richard, Stephen, and a sullen Sir Charles speaking together “I’ve found life can get rather dull without one. ‘Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine’.”

Ben’s eyes shifted to her and he smiled appreciatively “Lord Byron.” Sharon raised her eyebrows at him, impressed.

As they approached, Sir Charles smiled acridly at her as he bit off his words “Ah, Miss Sword. Aren’t we the in-demand socialite this evening?”

His contemptuous tone was instantly off putting and it took an effort for her to maintain her smile “My apologies Sir Charles.” Her glowered haughtily at her and her anxiety returned full force; she couldn’t think what else to say.

Ben stepped in and rescued her immediately “Charles, what was it you were saying about the modern cinematic tropes affecting the portrayal of Shakespearean Kings?” Partially removed from Charles’s view by Ben’s shoulder, Sharon recovered from his unexpected rancor. Determined not to let Charles see he’d gotten the better of her, either by casting her eyes to the floor or by glaring at him, she looked around the room while she took some soothing breaths and noticed Tom coming to join them.

Placated by the topic, and finally having the attention of everyone in the room that he deemed important, Charles took the bait and began a diatribe on the subject. Her composure restored, Sharon peeked up at Ben hoping to communicate her thanks, and found him already smiling inconspicuously down at her. Charles was appeased, and yet hardly spoke to Sharon despite his insistence on her presence. They were eventually rescued from his grandstanding by the announcement that dinner was served.

They filed into a massive dining room, an immense oaken table running the length of the room, surrounded by thirty or so high backed chairs. Charles’ audience was nearest the door and so was the first to file in, following their host the far side of the room where he sat at the table’s head with his wife to his right.

The room echoed with the jubilant chatter of the remaining actors as they followed and found seats at the massive table. Sharon ended up between Tom and Richard, across from Ben, with Michael sitting across from Tom. A neat trick the gentleman had pulled in an attempt to isolate themselves from Charles, whose attention was now focused on Jaqueline, Steven, and Jenifer.  

As everyone was taking in the impressive appointments of the room and chattering, Richard courteously assisted her into her chair. Ben caught her eye just after she sat down “Do they entertain a lot?” She thanked Richard as he sat down beside her but he had to lean in to hear her, and gave her a bright smile and a nod while waiting to hear her answer to Ben’s interesting question.

“Yes. Well… Jaqueline does. She’s a philanthropist so it’s mostly charity functions and benefits. She’s brilliant at it; she helped me get a couple of my charities off the ground.” It was difficult for her to be heard in the cacophony of the room and all four men were leaning in attentively to catch her every word. _Breathe Vi, and don’t say anything stupid._

Formal occasions, especially formal dining, intimidated her enough without the added pressure of having four intensely beautiful pairs of eyes from four incredibly intelligent men focused on her. 

Her hands were shaking a little as she removed her napkin from the table and it slipped through her fingers, landing at Tom’s feet. Before she could reach for it he plucked it from the floor. Rather than handing it over to her his brows drew up in silent inquiry as he tipped his head, his eyes asking for permission. Sharon moved her hands back, granting it to him while she smiled shyly. He draped the napkin over her legs, his fingers whispering slowly over her thigh just before he released the cloth.

Sharon swallowed hard as she raised her eyes to his “Thank you.” He was smiling beatifically back at her, and for a ridiculous moment she feared those passionately sweet blue eyes would somehow swallow her sanity if she stared into them too long. She blinked rapidly and lowered her lashes, trying to stem the influx of butterflies in her stomach, and from the corner of her eye she noticed Ben watching them with an abrupt intensity. She paused for a moment and turned her focus on him, wondering what was wrong. He casually leaned over to speak with Jenifer, and Sharon doubted what she thought she’d seen.

She belatedly brought her attention back to Tom, and found he too was looking at Ben, his perplexed features confirming that she hadn’t imagined anything. His expression changed to charming sincerity as he tore his gaze away and turned his eyes back to her. There was an intimacy to his voice that unsettled her in all the right ways as he softly responded in his dulcet voice “my pleasure.”

Again, she tried to disguise her response with a smile, but it melted away as he held her eyes with his, longer than she could pretend was ordinary. Her ability to breathe became increasingly difficult again. _What the hell is going on? Did I miss something? A memo perhaps? Was this just standard operating procedure when dealing with classy captivating British actors? They’re job wasn’t done unless they left every woman in their charming wake bewitched and besotted?_

Ben called her attention again “Sharon, that accent you did at the reading… it’s the best I’ve heard an American pull off. How’d you manage that?”

In her peripheral vision she could see Tom and Richard nodding with interest and the pressure of having the attention of all four men was back on.

The room quieted some as the wine glasses were filled and the food began to come out, allowing her to be heard more easily “My Gran was from London. She lived with us until I was ten. I also have some good friends that moved to Texas from the UK, and I just tend to pick it up I guess. I couldn't tell you how many spelling tests I failed in grade school, with notes to the effect of 'there is no U in this word'."

Richard joined in, his blue eyes twinkling at her “Stephen mentioned you’re from Texas, I don’t hear much of a southern accent. Why is that?”

“Well, we moved to Texas from the west coast when I was ten, and I have older siblings, and I guess I just tried to steer clear of it.” She smiled ruefully “I wasn’t entirely successful; you’ll hear it eventually, it sneaks out.” Her brother and sisters teased her mercilessly for it, just as kids at school had teased her for sounding too ‘proper’.

Her promise that they could expect twangy slips in the future made Richard grin with playful anticipation before Tom asked casually “Whereabouts in London was your Gran from?”

Sharon answered hesitantly, aware of the stigma that her answer could inspire “Hammersmith… mostly.” Her answer seemed not to faze them, in fact they picked up the topic affably, extolling on their knowledge of the area and its virtues.

The food was being served and Sharon leaned forward, anxiously looking down the table at Jacqueline while she listened to the men’s conversation, watching intently as she took her first bite. When the corners of her mouth turned up the slightest bit Sharon relaxed back against her seat, perhaps a little too dramatically for the movement drew the men’s gazes. Tom’s eyes followed where her sight line had been directed and then he smiled knowingly at her.

One of the staff reached between them and set the vegetables and the Bearnaise sauce on the table and Tom’s eyes lit up “Oh look, my sauce!” he smirked at her.

Sharon widened her eyes dramatically, a mock chiding not to blow their secret, marred by the amused smirk she couldn’t contain when he grinned devilishly in response. He teasingly mused “I wonder if it tastes as good on the cutlery?”

Sharon turned her head away hiding her blush as her shoulders shook with breathy laughter, and Tom chuckled softly.  When she glanced up she found Ben’s eyes on them again, fully aware that he’d missed some private joke. He turned his attention to the food while she pondered his assessing look.

In the silence that followed, Michael returned to the previous topic, probing Sharon between bites “Hammersmith? That’s quite… posh.” The statement earned him looks of barely concealed disdain from the other men.

Ben relieved Sharon of the necessity of answering the loaded statement, his relaxed manner instantly becoming more formal and his smile strained as he turned to Michael “was that necessary?”

Sharon was about to speak up and disabuse him of his misguided assumption when Michael smiled innocently “What? I can’t ask a question about her heritage? American’s love to talk about their ancestry, they seem to think we all knew their great-great-great grandparents, personally.”

Tom’s eyebrows lowered solemnly, along with his voice “Are you really going to give an American a hard time about whether or not her grandmother was ‘posh’?”

Michael’s smile stayed firmly in place, if anything it became more charming as he turned to Sharon “If I’ve given any offense, I apologize…” he turned his smile on Tom, and Sharon perceived a hint of challenge to it “…unreservedly.”

The sudden tension had Sharon completely at a loss how to diffuse the situation and she nodded understandingly at Michael, hoping the topic would drop. Michael waited for Tom to acknowledge his mea culpa, but Tom seemed not to notice his derision and offered an amiable smile.

After the prickly moment passed, the conversation moved on with renewed enthusiasm in an attempt to bring back an affable atmosphere between them all, and good food and good wine helped them all unwind. Eventually Sharon forgot her shyness and they became the most lively and engaged group at the table, all five of them joining in on animated exchanges that danced from comical, to clever, and back again. Sharon’s cheeks began to ache from smiling.

They were in the midst of enjoying a story Richard was telling about a drying up incident on stage, a wine induced twinkle in his eye adding to his playful sense of humor, when Jenifer suddenly stood up from the table. She’d been tapping away at her phone, halfheartedly pretending to listen to Charles’ tirade on being an aged actor, when she stiffly announced “Well, as fun as this has been, I must be going. Thank you for the meal Jaqueline, it was the best I’ve had since I left LA. If you don’t mind I’d love to have your Gougères recipe for my chef.”

The room slowly fell silent and Jacqueline smiled with practiced grace as she rose, followed by the gentleman at the table. She hid her annoyance with their guest’s abrupt ending of her dinner by pretending to appreciate the compliment, but her smile became brittle once Jenifer’s back was turned. She and Stephen walked Jenifer out while their guests broke off into groups and wandered through the various rooms open for the evenings gathering.

Richard continued his story as the 5 of them walked together, finishing up just as they reached the large high ceilinged central room known as ‘The courtyard’. Their laughter was interrupted by Shauna tapping Sharon’s shoulder, conspicuously attempting to be inconspicuous.

They looked around to be sure Jaqueline was still busy before Shauna whispered “It went brilliantly, I can’t thank you enough. I feel like such a cute hoor for doin’ this but she wanted Macarons for dessert, so I ordered ‘em from a bakery. You think she’ll notice?”

Sharon’s eyes widened ominously, but her response was lost as Tom exclaimed a little louder than necessary “Jaqueline…” and strode to the other side of the room, his long legs making short work of intercepting her. He was all charming smiles as he stuck up a conversation… complementing her on something judging by Jacqueline’s expression. Shauna’s eyes went large and she quietly slunk from the room without another word. Sharon tried to slip back over and join the men’s conversation again.

“Vivy!” Jacqueline called out over Tom’s shoulder. Sharon attempted to stifle her cringe but Ben caught it and found it greatly entertaining, his eyes crinkling as he chuckled softly at her. “I’m tempted to come with you and watch this.” Sharon bit her lip and grimaced comically at him before she obediently headed over to join Jacqueline and Tom.

Tom’s hesitant smile as she approached hinted he was unsure what Jacqueline was up to. She held herself with a severity that did nothing to allay Sharon’s worry “Tom here has graciously been complementing my work with this house, though I wonder how much of it he could have seen, as he was so busy ‘rescuing’ you. He is most refreshing though; all anyone else has been able to discuss with me is how wonderful dinner was.” Jacqueline cocked an eyebrow at her. “You can imagine my surprise at this, as I had little faith this cook could pull it off… but I suppose I was mistaken.”

Sharon maintained a poker face, suspecting Jacqueline was either fishing to confirm her suspicions, or already had “Sharon dear, won’t you please write down your Gougères recipe. Jenifer has requested a copy of it…” Jacqueline smiled knowingly at Sharon’s deliberately blank expression. Tom glanced down, licking his lips and smiling apprehensively as Jaqueline toyed with them.

The pressure of a response dissolved in the chaos of a sudden crashing noise behind them as a huge grey wire haired dog came bounding in. Sharon turned toward the sound just as the dog reared up and planted its huge paws on her shoulders. Taken by surprise in the tall heels, she went sailing backwards. She twisted in an effort to get her hands under her and break her fall.

Strong arms rather than the floor impacted her as Tom reached out and caught her. One hand ended up haphazardly planted on her bum and his other arm wrapped around her upper back, his hand brushing against the swell of her breast. Her right hand had caught hold of the back of his neck, and she loosened her grip when she realized she wasn’t going to fall. His nose brushed her cheek as he turned to look down at her, so close she could feel his breath whisper over her cheek. He asked softly “Are you alright?”

 _Um, hell no I’m not okay!_ Her breathing had suddenly gone uneven in a way that had nothing to do with being startled; she wasn’t able to conjure more than a whisper to respond “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you, so much.” At her assurance, his hands slid over her to more appropriate places while she got her feet back under herself and he helped right her. He didn’t completely release her, his arms lingered in a protective embrace as they looked down at the eager animal.

Jacqueline was thwarting the huge dog’s efforts to slather Sharon’s face with kisses, wrangling him back as she called for Mathias. Then she surprised everyone in the room by baby talking excitedly to the dog, in French, turning his enthusiasm on herself as she playfully teased him.

Sharon slipped out of Tom’s arms and knelt down “Jiggers.” The dog whirled around and she narrowly avoided having her face bathed in slobber. She firmly took him in hand and, contrite, he sat down to enjoy her attention more sedately, but just as happily. Tom knelt down and joined her in saying hello “What sort of a name is Jiggers?”

Sharon smiled at the silly name “He’s an Irish Wolfhound, from champion stock, and the registered name he was given was ‘Irish Whiskey’, so I nicknamed him Jiggers.”

Tom turned to her, eyes wide with surprise “He’s yours?” Sharon nodded, still smiling goofily at the dog. “He stayed here with me before, and he liked it so much I didn’t have the heart to coop him up in my flat, so I visit him here.”

Tom nodded, but threw another amused glance at Jacqueline as she began baby talking to the dog again, her behavior strikingly at odds with her usual demeanor. Sharon raised an eyebrow at him and smirked as she angled her head toward Jacqueline, indicating the dog’s happiness was not the only reason she’d left him here. Tom’s chin jutted forward, a brow rose drolly and pursed smiling lips silently indicated his understanding.

Mathias arrived to coax Jiggers out of the room, and Jacqueline resumed her more dignified bearing as the dog left them. Half a dozen of the guests stopped to pet the happy animal on his way out, and he hammed cheerfully for their attention. As they watched him go, Jacqueline spoke in an aside to Sharon “Tell that girl she’d better not order anymore desserts from that disgusting English bakery.” Jacqueline gave them a parting smile “I have to check on dear Charles I’m sure he is somewhere causing a fuss” and she gracefully wandered off.

They watched her go for a moment before Tom quietly asked “Will she sack her?” Sharon smiled at him reassuringly, though her eyes were still heavy with concern “No. She’ll give her a second chance…” Tom looked a little encouraged, until Sharon added “but there won’t be a third, she’ll throw her out with five minutes’ notice and God help her if she tries to use her as a reference.”

“ _SHARON_!” Lucy suddenly appeared, doing a comically quiet version of her Ozzy bellow while holding her book and Sharon’s mobile. “Oh, there you are. I know, I know, you’re supposed to be mingling, but it’s your publisher… and it’s their third call tonight!”

Sharon’s brows rose in surprise and she turned to excuse herself. Tom waved her off, sweetly reassuring “no, no it’s quite alright, I understand completely. I’ll catch you up later.” Trays of bakery desserts had begun to come out and his eyes lit up as he went to inspect them. Sharon headed off to the Bow room with Lucy.

The sumptuously gilded room was called the Bow room for the bowed wall of floor-to-ceiling windows lining one end, overlooking the strategically lit grounds. Sharon looked longing at the peaceful view before she settled onto one of the large velvet couches and took the call off mute. An annoyed publicity director immediately began chattering at her.

After twenty minutes reassuring him that the film was going as planned, even without one of the core cast members on set, Sharon hung up the phone with a sigh and rubbed her temples. Meagan had been spotted in LA and set off a firestorm of rumors that she’d dropped out of filming. Lucy had gotten annoyed with the conversation five minutes into the call and left the room with her book.

She stared out the window again, hoping that breath of serenity would refresh her before she joined the others. “Everythin’ alrigh’?” the sudden voice piercing the quiet of the room made her jump, and she turned to find Michael holding his hands up in surrender, a smirk on his gorgeous lips “I di'nah mean to frigh’en ya.” he said as he rounded the couch to sit beside her, the alcohol drawing out his accent.

Long leather clad legs stretched out in front of him as he lounged back against the couch, smiling seductively at her, a dark seraph of sex incarnate come to haunt her close up.

Sharon visibly gulped as she side eyed him for a moment. His smiled stretched into a knowing grin, spurring her to pull herself together. She lifted her chin and met his eye unflinchingly “Everything is fine”.

He propped his feet on the coffee table, crossed at the ankle, foot casually wobbling back and forth as he continued to grin at her, relaxation and alcohol bringing out his natural accent. “Are you sure ‘cause Stephen just had to take a call too. Said it migh’ be a while. Di'nah look too pleased ‘bout it.” He leaned in secretively “Think it migh’ a been Meagan.”

Sharon closed her eyes in frustration and started to get up “I need to find Stephen”. Michael stopped her with a hand on her thigh “I would nah just now, heard him say he di'nah want to be disturbed.”

The moment she leaned back into her seat he discreetly removed his hand, and she relaxed. “The movie business can be quite unpredictable, but t’ere’s always someone pullin’ strings ta fix what needs fixin’; honestly I’m not sure why anyone continues t’ bother with the expense and labor that goes into films when they can nah be sure it’ll pay off. Personally I t’ink it’s ‘cause the only success, the only greatness for man, is immortality.”

Sharon frowned contemplatively at him for a moment before unexpectedly retaliating “Bullshit.” 

Michael’s eyebrows shot up. This was obviously not a response he was accustomed to getting.

 “People accomplish amazing things everyday with no expectation of being recognized for it.” He smiled and raised his glass in cool but polite acknowledgement of her point, but she wasn’t done “and did you just fucking paraphrase James Dean?”

He burst out laughing and his whole demeanor changed in an instant, as if the curtain of practiced charisma slipped aside for a moment and revealed a real person behind it “My God, ya don’t tolerate pretension well, do ya? Dealing with this industry must be a right misery for ya!” Sharon couldn’t help but smile self-consciously, conceding his point.

When he wasn’t trying to charm her anymore they were both more at ease, talking at length about the project, and Sharon realized how little chance he’d had to speak to her about it before this. “Would you like a drink? I’m goin’ ta make myself one.” Michael asked, thumbing his hand at the small bar set into the long wall behind them. Sharon hesitated, they had a good report going right now, but a little voice was telling her that drinking alone with him might not be the best idea. She knew better than to ignore her gut and declined with a shake of her head as he got up.

He was standing at the little bar when Tom, Ben, and Richard entered the room loudly “Oh, here she is! Vivy, are you busy?” Tom called out when he spotted her on the couch. As he came around it to join her, Ben declared in light-hearted exasperation “What is this Vivy business? Why does no one call you Sharon?”

Tom sat next to her as Ben took the chair to their left, and Richard the settee across from them. Michael came back to find his seat occupied, and quietly moved to the end of the sofa, sipping his drink as he resumed his lounging. Tom scooted closer to Sharon to give him space and answered Ben satirically “The whole thing is a conspiracy, she’s actually a secret agent and Sharon is a public facade to throw off everyone off.”

Ben and Richard both cocked an eyebrow at him and smirked as they waited for the real answer. Tom chuckled “Sorry.” he looked at Sharon with a twinkle in his eye as he elaborated “her name really is Viviana”. Again, the way he articulated her name gave it an exotic quality that shivered down her spine. It was worlds apart from the Vivy-anne she’d always gotten in Texas, and her family only ever called her Vi.

Curious, the three men looked to her for verification and she expounded “Sharon is my middle name, my publisher thought it made for a better pen name when paired with ‘Sword’.”

Ben and Richard smirkingly nodded, but Michael watched her thoughtfully. Ben had another question “We were looking for you to see if you could settle our little dispute. We were trying to determine who kills Richard” he froze, closed his eyes dramatically, and held up a hand in a mock expression of regret “So sorry, Raedan.”

Sharon gave them an admonishing smirk and mimed locking the corner of her lips, making the three men whoop loudly and Ben exclaimed “I knew it, you’re pushin’ up daises.” at Richard.

Before Richard could protest, Sharon joined in “What makes you think your character isn’t doing the same?” Richard cocked an eyebrow at Ben and grinned hugely while Ben tried to suss out if Sharon was messing with him.

She couldn’t keep up the act for long “I’m joking… there’s only a small chance I might kill off Richard’s character” earning a round of laughter from them all.

Michael stood up “I’m gonna top this off, would anyone else care for one.” Everyone else consented and Michael looked at Sharon inquisitively. She wanted to consent, comfortable now that there were others in the room, but worried she might cast suspicion on her previous rejection of his offer. He read her answer on her face and said “I’ll bring you one”. as he headed back to the bar.

They chatted among themselves, Tom’s arm bumping against her as he animatedly spoke to them all. His thigh was pressed up against hers again, just as it had in the limo, but it didn’t feel quite as awkward to her now.

He caught a finger on a strand of her hair while gesturing and, after quietly apologizing, he began to twirl it absently around his finger. The movement was sending chills through her scalp that she was trying very hard to disguise as Michael came back and handed them each a drink.

When Sharon reached for it, Michael brushed his fingertips over hers as he released the glass, and her bracelet suddenly fell at Tom’s feet. Michael picked it and leaned down to place it back on Sharon’s wrist.

Tom interrupted “Oh, here let me.” He hurriedly set his drink down and reached for the bracelet as Michael puzzled over it. “It’s tricky…” Michael reluctantly let go as Tom’s long fingers traced over her wrist, raising gooseflesh on her skin as he found the clasp and repeated his attentions from earlier that day.

 _Was it really only earlier today? I feel like I know him so much better than that._ After he closed the clasp and smiled triumphantly at it, Michael returned to his seat. Tom held her wrist and indicated the charms “So these … they’re not your average pretty charms are they?”

Sharon shook her head “No, they were custom made for me.”

He turned his eyes back to hers “I assume then, that there’s a story connected to each of them.”

“An author, actually. My inspirations and influences.” She added ruefully “for luck.”

Ben laughed appreciatively “Charm bracelet for a good-luck charm. How appropriate”.

Intrigued, Tom repositioned his hand on her wrist so he could flip through the charms “May I?”

Sharon smiled indulgently at him “Do you really want to know?”

He grinned and began gently thumbing through the charms, stopping to raise an inquisitive brow at each and wait for her response. His light touch was sending shivers up her arm and making it difficult to keep her mind on their discussion, a problem he seemed to be actively encouraging as he held her wrist, subtly moving his fingers over her skin as he listened.

The first one he singled out was a Knight on horseback in full 14th century armor and Sharon answered succinctly “Chaucer.”

A triangle with a circle inside and a line through the center. “Hallows” she smirked, deliberately vague. It certainly didn’t sound as grand as the first one had, but she’d found reactions to ‘Rowling’ differed wildly among the British.

A mad hatter, Tom smiled and predicted “Lewis.” she nodded.

Michael had leaned in for a better view and laughed at the next one, a balding man’s head on a platter. “Well that’s certainly macabre for a charm.”

Sharon laughed “Elliot.” Tom smirked knowingly and recited “Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in on a platter.”

A bonnet with a black band running across the crown, Sharon’s answer was almost chagrined, afraid there might be condescension in their response “…Austen…” but none came.

Richard and Ben leaned in closer as the next charm was chosen, A fairy, painstakingly tiptoeing. Sharon recited “Yeats. I have spread my dreams beneath your feet. Tread softly…” Tom finished the passage where she left off “for you tread on my dreams.”

Silvery script spelling out the word ‘NOW’. Michael guessed “Tolstoy?” Sharon nodded.

An ebony polished cat with a superior expression and a bow tie, sitting like a person with his hind legs crossed and a cup in his paw. Richard snapped his fingers excitedly at the charm and volunteered “Bulgakov!” and earned an impressed smile from her.

A golden rose. She grinned and looked at Richard “Gaskell.” He returned the smile teasingly “from Helstone?” She nodded and chuckled as Tom moved on to the next one.

A painting’s frame without a painting in it. Ben eagerly guessed “Wilde?” Sharon grinned “Correct.”

It quickly became a game and continued on through Plato, Tesla, Einstein, Chekhov, Proust… until Tom reached the last three charms.

Three diamonds and a gold ring band. Richard leaned forward and guessed enthusiastically, for they were all treating this like a party game now, “Are those Silmarils? Tolkien!” Sharon grinned hugely at him. “I told you I was a Tolkien geek.” He raised his glass in solidarity while smiling victoriously.

A skull, Sharon’s voice was matter of fact, and she was unexpectedly joined by all four men, as if this were the most commonsense answer possible. “Shakespeare.” There were more raised glass salutes and laughter before they continued.

The last charm came up and Sharon sobered to the point she was resisting the urge to squirm, Michael leaned in to get a closer look at it. “Now what is that? A wine glass with a funny little stem?”

Sharon attempted a laugh as Michael leaned back, but it came off halfhearted “Well I do love wine.” Tom rolled the charm between his fingers for a moment while he contemplated it then raised his eyes to meet hers probingly; she evaded meeting his eyes and he said nothing.

The subject of her charms fueled intense discussions about their favorite authors, a long and stimulating conversation, but as the level of their drinks declined so did their subject matter, becoming more ribald as the evening wore on. When they hit bawdy Shakespearean puns an intense, yet comedic, repartee ensued and Sharon got up to refill their drinks.

She had just set their glasses on the bar when suddenly Lucy burst in, the banging door silencing the men’s’ conversation instantly. Lucy’s eyes were locked on Sharon, completely unaware that she was no longer alone in the room or that she’d interrupted anything. The determination in her stride as she bore down on Sharon and the frustration in her raised voice held everyone’s attention.

“What the hell happened to my scene? My favorite scene from your first draft, it’s gone! You let your editor butcher my favorite scene?” Sharon tried to think of a way to coax her into leaving the room to finish the discussion in private.

Curiosity aroused, Tom called over from the couch “What scene was that?”

 _Too late!_ Sharon braced herself for it.  When Lucy was riled, she didn’t hesitate to speak her mind, no matter who the question came from. Unfazed, Lucy called over her shoulder at him “The hot sexy one. Dammit! I was so aroused I couldn’t pee afterwards!” _And there it is!_

She turned back to Sharon “Why did they cut it?”

Over Lucy’s shoulder, Tom’s head abruptly disappeared from view behind the couch as he doubled over with suppressed laughter, and Sharon fought to contain her own. Any self-conscious qualms she had over the assertion that she’d written compelling eroticism were drowned in the hilarity of Lucy’s ribald response.

Ben barely restrained a grin as he raised his tumbler and nodded a salute at her.

Richard managed one better, arching a sardonic brow with a smile and dryly suggesting “Perhaps they were afraid of giving their readers urinary difficulties?” a restrained laugh crept into his voice, slightly marring his words as he finished.

At that, Ben lost the battle to keep a straight face, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth he turned away and bent forward to hide the giggles silently shaking his chest.

Lucy turned on her heel as she smugly strutted out of the room, adding “They should be so lucky, every woman needs that kind of urinary difficulty, trust me.” before she closed the door.  

Sharon couldn’t fight it anymore and dropped her face into her hand as she burst out laughing. Ben, Tom, and Richard roared with it. 

She attempted to rein herself in after a minute, and Michael caught her eye. He wore a curious smile but he wasn’t laughing with the others. His eyes were full of a voracious interest he wasn’t even attempting to conceal as they locked on her.

Sharon’s smile abruptly died on her lips as he held her eyes unsettlingly. Ben broke the spell as the fit of laughter finally subsided “How did she come to be your assistant?”

Sharon carried the refilled tumblers back over “A favor to her parents for the most part.” She handed Ben his tumbler and he raised a brow, waiting for her to elaborate while she handed out the rest of the glasses. “Her mother was a friend of mine from college, my English professor actually. Her father is an attorney and they moved away a few years ago when he was offered a position with a firm in LA that specializes in entertainment and publishing law.”

When she finished handing out the drinks she slipped in beside Tom again on the couch. “I contacted her when I got the offer from my publisher and he looked it over as a favor to me.  He’s the reason I was able to retain what is considered to be a ‘ridiculous’ amount of creative control over the rights for the books and then the movie rights. He watched out for me, and now I watch out for Lucy.”

Michael scrutinized her for a moment “ _You_ ‘watch out’ for _her_?”

Sharon smiled, it did seem absurd “She wants to work in this industry, but she isn’t sure what interests her yet. Her father knows just how dark a place the entertainment business can be when you’re starting out. His hope is that my ‘name’ and connections will give her a boost, as well as some protection, while she gets her feet wet. I’m happy to oblige, she’s great at the job… and she’s become a dear friend.”

Tom smiled empathetically at her “Those are the best kind to have around.”

She returned the smile, but it faltered when she caught sight of Michael over Tom’s shoulder, rolling his eyes at the back of Tom’s head, just as Ben asked Tom about a mutual friend of theirs. Tom leaned forward to answer him and Michael winked at her. Then casually turned his attention to his drink.

Sharon abruptly looked away, perplexed, and her eyes landed on Richard. He’d been leaning forward in his chair, rolling his tumbler between his long fingers, his crystal eyes following the conversation from under heavy brows. His eyes cut from Michael to her, assessing what he’d seen, and he subtly cocked an eyebrow at her.

She glanced back at Michael out of the corner of her eye and found he was absorbed in Ben and Tom’s conversation about a fellow actress, so she shrugged her shoulders slightly and turned up her hands, her confused expression confirming there was no private joke taking place on her end.

Richard pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed it for a moment as he contemplated Michael. Sharon tried to resume focus on the men's conversation, but watching Michael interacting with Tom, as if nothing had happened, threw her thoughts off kilter.

 _What the fuck was that? If Richard hadn’t seen it might’ve thought I’d gone crazy_. Another quick concerned glance in her direction from Richard told her he was thinking something similar before Ben claimed his attention too “You worked with her recently, didn’t you Richard?” 

A genial smile wiped away the concern as Richard joined their conversation “Yes, we did a play together in New York.”

The banter of fellow actors droned on as they caught up on people and subjects that Sharon had no practical experience with. After another hour and a couple more drinks they were all sleepily relaxed and slouching in their chairs, Sharon drowsing heavily against Tom’s shoulder while he absently twirled a lock of her hair in his fingers.  

Her lack of sleep was catching up to her, and her eyes kept trying to drift shut. Richard smiled indulgently at her “What time are the cars taking us back to the studio tomorrow?”

Sharon groaned “9am” They all glanced at their watches and disgruntled noises erupted, followed by ribbing over who would have a hangover at the fittings.

Sharon was passed between Richard and Ben for quick and slightly drunken hugs before she turned to wish Michael a good night. His eyes followed her languorously and he leaned in to say something in her ear when Tom joined them, placing his hand at the small of her back to escort her from the room. Michael stopped and gave her a pained smile instead, muttering a slightly terse “Sweet dreams”.

Apparently unaware that he’d interrupted, Tom smiled pleasantly at him “See you tomorrow man.” Michael’s expression didn’t change, but he nodded his head in polite acknowledgment as she and Tom headed off for the back staircase.

The house was fairly quiet as they passed through it, with only a few conversations still carrying lightly into the hall.

“Looks like we weren’t the only ones without the good sense to give up at a decent hour” Tom nodded towards the lit rooms emitting voices.

Sharon smiled tiredly “Well it sounds like everyone enjoyed themselves… and each other. Stephen will be pleased, that’s what he wanted.”

Tom dropped his head towards her as he grinned mischievously “everyone enjoying each other?” She coyly returned his smile, and his hand slid across her back to her other hip, tugging her against his side.

They reached the stairs and Sharon paused to take off her shoes, too tipsy and too tired to attempt them in the tall heels. Tom stopped, arm still around her, and chuckled “Are you all right?” 

Sharon smirked as she lifted her foot and reached back to grab the heel, “I’m not drunk, if that’s what you mean.” she wobbled on the other heel, contradicting her sassy reply and sending her off balance.

She grabbed Tom for support just as he pulled her up against him to steady her. His face was inches away, the length of his body pressed against hers as hard muscles rippled beneath her hand. “Of course not. You just seem to keep ending up in my arms tonight.”

 _Don’t think I haven’t fucking noticed!_   “I.. I thought it might be better if I didn’t wear them on the stairs” she managed lamely

His lips compressed in amusement, but his eyes were heavy lidded and his voice low and silky “Probably for the best”.

She held his eyes as she reached back and tugged off the other shoe, causing her face to drop several more inches away from his as he slowly relaxed his grip on her.

He didn’t remove his arm as they started up the stairs, his fingertips gently pressing into her hip. She wasn’t sure if this was because he did think she was drunk and was ensuring she didn’t fall down the stairs, or if it was just a desire to stay close. Either way, it was wreaking havoc on her. His touch, his warmth, his scent was all around her and she was nearly overwhelmed with the desire to lean into him and seek more.

When they reached her door he slowly released his hold, sliding his hand lingeringly around her back as she turned to him. Unsettlingly close, he leaned against the wall between their rooms, bringing his face even nearer. “That charm.” he reached down and took her hand, bringing it up so he could look at it again “…it’s a bell jar, isn’t it?”

Sharon hesitated for a moment, but he had an ability to inspire her trust on a level few people could, and she decided to open up. “Yes.”

His eyes shifted from the charm to hers “Plath”

 “Yes”.

He gently ran his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand, patiently waiting for her to elaborate.

Sharon looked down at their hands, and then quietly intoned “What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless… well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age”.

Tom’s hand stilled, and then squeezed hers. He placed a finger beneath her chin, raising her face to his and staring intently into her eyes “Those demons do drive us, don’t they?” his voice was soft but his charming smile had an edge to it.

Still flustered by his touch, she bit her lower lip, the movement drawing his gaze to fixate on her mouth. He licked his lips slowly as he contemplated hers.


	6. Chapter 6: Stallions and Studs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When film studios snatched up the rights to the phenomenon that was newly bestselling author Sharon Swords’ record setting book series, she had no idea how much work and adventure lay ahead of her in bringing her creation to life onscreen. Or that she might become the object of affection for a couple of the captivating actors collaborating closely with her on set. Will she end up producing a blockbuster or a scandal? Either way, her fantasies are about to becoming maddeningly real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about that short hiatus, I had to get an OLLA fic out of my system, regular updates should resume now.

His movement had the same effect on her, her eyes dropping to his lips as he wet them. Somewhere in the back of her mind a little voice of reason managed to be heard over the buzz of the alcohol. _You’re_ working _with him Sharon. Millions of dollars and people’s reputations at stake!_ She took a deep breath and quickly raised her eyes, looking away from him entirely.

Her effort to rein herself in reminded Tom to do the same, and he offered a tentative smile. “I guess I’ll, um, I’ll see you in the morning then?”

Still flustered, her eyes darted back to his as she attempted to relax and project a blasé friendliness “Bright and early” _Bright and early? Since when did you start saying bright and early? Professionalism, right, gotta keep it together…_

Tom tore his eyes away from hers and ran a hand through his hair while he took a deep breath, nearly an imitation of her own attempt to cool things down, but his eyes fell right back on her lips again. His hand stayed buried in his hair, demonstrating he was as conflicted about the situation as she was. Sharon decided to put them both out of their misery “Better turn in, before I lose my balance again and end up in your arms tonight”. 

The double entendre wasn’t lost on him. His hand released his hair and fell away as his mouth spread into an abashed smile. Before she lost her resolve, Sharon slipped around the door to her room, leaning back around from the other side to add a soft “goodnight”.

There was a sense of reluctant resolve to his smile as he took a few steps back from her door. She heard a gently resigned “Sweet dreams, Viviana” just before the door clicked shut.

Sharon threw herself on the bed and resisted the urge to scream into a pillow lest Tom should hear her through the walls, which were thinner in the newer part of the house. Though she was usually prone to vivid dreams, her sleep deprivation and the alcohol quickly sent her into a sound and dreamless sleep. She was grateful for that in the morning; she wasn’t sure how restful her sleep could possibly be if her sexually charged brain had decided to start inventing scenarios on top of an already surreal day.

She woke up to a knocking at the door and Mathias’ hesitant voice announcing he was waking the guests for departure in forty-five minutes. After calling out a thank you to him she sat up and turned to look at the mirror on the wall behind the nightstand, where she was forcibly reminded of a raccoon. Her hair was a jumbled mess and she’d forgotten to take out her contacts so her eyes were irritated and red on top of the smeared makeup she’d forgotten to remove. She hurried into the shower.

When she emerged from her room twenty minutes later she found Mathias tapping on Tom’s door again and calling out “Monsieur!” He looked thoroughly harassed and Sharon knew he was probably incredibly busy. She’d heard water running through the pipes from her room and was fairly certain Tom was in the shower. “It’s all right Mathias. I’ll make sure he knows”.

Mathias grinned his thanks and hurried off. Sharon went back into her room to retrieve her bag and noted the sound of the water shutting off. After she set her bag down in the hall she knocked on his door again. “Tom!” She’d expected him to call back an answer, instead the door flung open before her and she was suddenly face to face with a nearly naked, dripping wet, jaw-droppingly beautiful man.

Sharon’s eyes locked onto the sleek muscles on display and her mind went completely blank for a few embarrassing beats while Tom waited and smiled. At first he did so with polite expectancy, waiting to hear why she’d knocked at his door, but his smile became increasingly amused the longer she stood there gaping. When he teasingly prompted “Good morning Vivy” her eyes snapped back up to his and registered his enjoyment of her reaction.

Annoyed, she instantly recovered herself and adopted an air of casual disinterest “The cars are leaving for the farm in about twenty minutes.”

Tom’s smile became more restrained and he cleared his throat “Thank you.” As she turned for the stairs he added “Oh Vivy hang on, you’ve forgotten something!” She turned back around but he was gone, already inside his room. His voice issued out encouragingly “Come in!”

Sharon squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed. _Oh, get ahold of yourself, woman!_ She took a few hesitant steps into the room and Tom called back “I’m sorry, what was that?”

 _Shit! MUST stop talking to self out loud_! She stopped in front of the armoire and shook her head, giving him a blank innocent smile, and he continued rummaging through the room. “Last night… in the corridor… after you’d gone into your room… I noticed something… on the floor. Now I seem to have misplaced it…”

He looked around befuddled for a moment and then his eyes traveled up above her head, they locked onto something and he grinned shrewdly. He began striding toward her, saying something about his bag and safe keeping, but all she could take in was his lovely face, the large blue eyes focused above her, the dripping curls, the water droplets sliding down his skin, drawing her eyes to his sleekly muscled chest and her attention to the fact that he was coming straight at her, quickly. He didn’t stop till she’d nearly pinned herself against the armoire and then he reached up above her. _Wha.. ok?_

His arms were on either side of her head as he focused on rummaging in a bag he’d set on top of the armoire, completely at ease with their proximity. When she looked up to see what he was doing it brought her face to within inches of his. She lowered her head again, not sure where to look and unable to step away. Her downcast eyes settled on the planes of hard muscle visible above the edge of the towel, and the light trail of hair that disappeared beneath it.

 _Where the hell am I supposed to look?_! Sharon turned her eyes away, trying to distract herself from the thoughts running rampant in her head and the impulse that was begging to know what it felt like to run her fingers over those muscles. Still unable to locate whatever he was hunting for, he finally decided to bring the whole bag down, drawing her eyes back to his flexing ab muscles as he lifted it.

So she was as aware of the issue as he was when his towel began to lose the battle to stay wrapped around his hips. Sharon saw his muscles stiffen as the towel began to slide open, and in that split second she realized he would either have to let the towel fall or drop the bag on her head in order to free his hands in time to restrain it.

Her hands darted out and pinned the towel against him in the nick of time. It had already fallen low enough to expose the upper edge of hair surrounding him. Her hands were planted just over his hips, the sharp relief of his iliac furrow curved beneath her fingertips. She admirably resisted the urge to run her thumbs over them and explore.

Though she’d stopped the towel from falling, the now lose edges began to separate in the front and Tom reacted instinctively, pushing his hips forward to check the towel’s progress by pinning them against the nearest object. In this case, Sharon.

His hips shoved her up against the armoire and they both froze. Sharon’s heart was hammering in her chest as she slowly raised her eyes to his. Hooded blue eyes stared back at her with a yearning she couldn’t pretend she didn’t return. They both held their breath when he dropped his gaze to her mouth, just as he had last night.

A pair of ear bud style headphones toppled out of the bag, still suspended in Tom’s raised hands, and landed in the curls of his hair, the cord dangling in front of his eyes. They both tipped their eyes up to regard them and the tension eased as slow unrestrainable smiles spread over their faces at the ridiculousness of it.

Since the towel had separated too much for him to risk gathering it in one hand, Tom carefully shifted the unwieldy bag to one hand and slipped the other behind Sharon, wrapping it tightly around her waist. He kept her pulled taught against him, taking her with him as he leaned sideways and back to set the bag on a nearby chair, keeping her close to prevent the towel from falling off completely. She felt the muscles in his waist tighten and shift under his smooth skin and watched the play of muscles in his chest as he tossed his wet hair to dislodge the earbuds, softly laughing at himself as he straightened back up.

His mouth was smiling but those eyes were still boring into hers with hunger. Breathing became difficult as his hands covered hers, still pressed to his waist, and then slid down to the towel, skimming along its edges till he slipped them between their bodies, fingers pressing against her as he sought the towel’s open ends. Her breath hitched and she felt the unmistakable twitch of his impending arousal against her, just before he grabbed hold of what he sought.

He carefully refolded the towel and stepped back as he tucked it in against his waist, then ran a hand through his hair as they both let out a breathy and awkward laugh to release the tension. The urge to bolt when things got awkward was suddenly overwhelming and Sharon started for the door “I’ll just let them know that I’ve… let you know”. _Aaaaand that’s how to make a professional impression, right?_

“Hang on, Vivy!” she could hear him rummaging through his bag and remembered he wanted to show her something. She froze where she was and waited, unsure if she could withstand another visual assault without turning into a babbling idiot.

Tom wasn’t letting her off that easy. Suddenly he was at her side, his face looming over her shoulder, his deliciously clean scent surrounding her again. He slipped his fingers into her hand, still warm and damp from contact with his body, and pressed something cold into. Sharon opened her hand to find her charm bracelet, and for a moment she was stunned to realize she hadn’t even noticed it was missing. He smiled and waited with charming anticipation while he continued to drip onto the carpet.

“Thank you!” she turned and exclaimed it in earnest. Smiling back at him until her eyes drifted down with the droplets again and she remembered he was trouble in a towel. She averted her eyes and Tom’s grin widened further as she made a hasty exit from the room.

He called after her “I’ll see you downstairs!” then added “Leave your bag there; I’ll bring it down for you!”

Sharon tried to shake off the effects of the encounter and hurried downstairs, but the feel of him seemed imprinted on her, as was the brief glimpse of darkening hunger in his eyes, her own body’s response making it difficult to let go of the moment and focus on her surroundings.

 _Shake it off! You can’t do justice to this production, and merit your inclusion in it, if you’re fawning over the actors!_ Sharon was careening down the stairs faster than she intended and nearly slammed into Michael’s back as she reached the bottom.

He was standing at the foot of the stairs and turned just as she managed to halt her forward motion, his shoulder nearly colliding with her face. She pulled back so that he wouldn’t turn and find her looming unnaturally close, but threw herself slightly off balance. Michael had been smiling, preparing to greet her, and instead reached out to steady her, gripping her shoulders.

“Good thing you weren’t wearing those heels from yesterday.” He joked, looking down at the brown knee-high riding boots she wore over her skinny jeans. His eyes skimmed over the rest of her, admiring the fit of her white t-shirt, lingering on the damp spots, and rubbing his thumbs against the soft fawn colored sweater beneath his hands, before he brought his eyes back to her face.

She was still trying to recover from her encounter with Tom, walking right into another flagrant ogling from a gorgeous man had her blinking at him like an owl. _It’s too early for this shit…_

“Sword, I…” a loud yowling sound issued from Sharon’s right startling everyone nearby. All heads turned to find Richard standing awkwardly, a sheepishly annoyed expression on his face as the fluffy back end of a grey cat fled the room. His eyes met Sharon’s for a second before they cut to Jaqueline’s as she passed through the room, slight panic became visible in them as he addressed her remorsefully “I’m so sorry. I caught her tail underfoot; do you think she’s alright?”

Jaqueline shrugged “Don’t look at me” her lip curled slightly “They’re my husband’s cats”. Her voice was dripping with disdain for the animals and a tiny smile curved the corners of Richard’s mouth as she continued out of the room.

Still slightly hunch-shouldered, he walked the few steps to join Sharon and quietly said “good morning” embarrassment clinging to him. _Join the club Richard, it’s that kinda day._

Sharon patted his arm sympathetically “It’s alright. That’s Pickle, otherwise known as fickle pickle, and she’s always underfoot. She holes up and nurses her pride for a while, and then she’s fine. Well as fine as she ever is… actually she’s always rather odd come to think of it...”

Richard wrapped an arm around Sharon and smiled down at her jovially, teasing “and how are you this fine morning. You certainly don’t look like you have a hangover, though you should after keeping up with four men twice your size.”

Sharon smirked up at him, his teasing tone was contagious “You’re not twice my size”.

“Twice your height then?” he said it with a wicked twinkle in his eye. Sharon mimed offense, playfully swiping at his shoulder. He laughingly pretended to recoil “only joking!” She smiled good-naturedly and turned her head to look round the room, but Richard wasn’t finished “So exactly how tall are you anyway… four foot two?”

Sharon pursed her lips in exaggerated exasperation and she slowly turned her face back to his, her eyes dramatically narrowed with feigned annoyance. Richard was unperturbed, his expression one of complete and innocent interest, but that mischievous light in his eyes gave him away. She played along, her voice dripping haughty indignation “Five foot three.”

Richard raised an eyebrow and bit his bottom lip, holding back a retort he obviously found hilarious, but thought best not to share. Sharon arched an eyebrow defiantly in return, daring him to come out with it. He sobered “I can see you’re not Happy”.

Suspecting he wasn’t finished, she gave him a small conciliatory smile. He proved her right just as she turned to look around for Ben. “So which of the other six dwarves are you then?” the laugh that had faintly bubbled through his joke burst from him as Sharon swatted at him in earnest. He ducked his head, playfully raising his shoulder to take the swipe, before scooping her against his side for an apologetic hug.

They were still laughing when he released her and she looked up to find Tom standing before them, his usually ready smile a little hesitant. He was watching her and Richard thoughtfully before she’d looked up and his smile made an unsure appearance. “Hey Vivy, I’ve got your bag here, I’ll just set it in the boot with mine… if that’s alright?”

Curls still slightly damp, his brow was furrowed and his eyes wide, giving him an almost puppy like expression she couldn’t imagine many people said ‘no’ to. 

Richard distracted her a moment as he released her waist and gave her back a pat. His smile was a warm ‘see you later’ as he picked up his bag and she waved back as he slipped into the room with the others gathering for departure.

When she turned back to Tom she caught a glimpse of Michael over his shoulder, reminding her that he’d been interrupted, first by Richard and now Tom. _I suck at social juggling._

She smiled at them both before responding to Tom “That would be lovely, thank you.” The genuine smile she’d grown to expect broke over his face like the sun chasing away clouds. She tried to think of something to say to Michael so he didn’t feel brushed off “Have the cars arrived yet?”

Michael hadn’t been expecting her address; instead he’d been looking closely at the two of them, a satisfied smile slid across his face as he answered “No, they were still waiting for them to pull ‘round. Say we’ll be having breakfast at the farm while they size everyone up for the horses. Those who won’t be riding will head straight back to the studio for the first round of fittings”.

“Well aren’t they the lucky ones.” Sharon turned around to see Ben entering the room from outside and smiling empathetically at them “Nothing like being on horseback the morning after a late night of drinking”.

Sharon only had time to smile at him in response before they called for everyone to file into the vehicles. Once outside, Tom began walking towards the cars designated to return to the set.

Michael smiled and called out to him “Tom, the cars for the farm are over here.”

“I was just taking Vivy’s bag to them.” He called back.

Sharon called out from around Ben “I’m going to the farm too!”

Tom turned around, a pleased grin spread across his face, and he and Michael responded in unison “You are?”

She chuckled at their surprise and responded matter of factly “I am”.

Tom offered her his arm, curiosity apparent in his and Michael’s expressions as they walked to the cars designated for the farm, “Stephen asked me to keep an eye on things at the farm while he handles the fittings. Something about costume fabric color readings on digital cameras and avoiding aliasing moiré patterns?”

“Don’t you want to see what they come up with?” Michael held a car door open for her.

“Oh, I’ve had a say in the preproduction sketches and spent quite a bit of time with Anna.” Sharon slipped into the car as the men circled around to lay the bags in the boot.

They were quickly on their way. Sharon flanked by Tom and Aiden, Ben had struck up an absorbing conversation with Michael by the boot and they’d ended up in another car, the rest of the passengers consisted of the supporting actors. They were chattering away, asking questions they hadn’t gotten to last night. Tom spent the relatively short trip enthusiastically engaged in character conversations stirred up by the questions.

The ‘farm’ was a rider’s dream, an extensive estate near Windsor with a series of formal barns and pastures that seemed to stretch on in every direction. There were also miles of brush filled trails where the hunters were trained.

A gravel lot which normally stored horse trailers during shows was now filled with a line of limos and town cars, drivers in formal attire coughing in the stirred up dust as they opened the doors for their clients. Many of the actors emerged from the cars hung over and hiding behind enormous sunglasses, glancing up at the morning sun accusingly, as if it only existed to cause them misery.

There were already handlers lined up to shepherd everyone to the main house for breakfast and calling out a brief synopsis of the day’s schedule, while the actors either shuffled like zombies, bounced around like excited puppies, or stumbled along battling nerves.

After serving themselves buffet style they were seated in groups according to their character allegiances, so that they could be worked according to which riders and horses would have the most scenes together. Since the main characters affiliated with Hyrde would all be riding the Akhal-Teke they were seated as a group. Their meals were briefly interrupted while they were measured for helmets.

Sharon ended up perched on the end of a bench next to Ben. They simultaneously ducked their heads shyly when the behind the scenes crew came into the room, their presence reminding Sharon that Megan was still conspicuously absent.

Trying not to press against his bum any more than necessary, she turned away from the table to make a call on her mobile. Her attempts were thwarted when Ben shoved his bum against her in a teasing attempt to knock her off the bench. Sharon instinctively shoved back against him and they grinned at one another just before the call connected and Ben resumed eating. “I know. I know.” was Stephen’s greeting.

“So what’s the deal? Introducing Megan to Ismat was the main reason we’re doing this so early…” The table went quiet when they heard Megan’s name.

“Yeah, I know. Maybe we could put him off on one of the other actors, see if he takes to Ben or Tom” Stephen sighed at Sharon’s silence “I know it throws things off, but they’re the only other two it would make sense to have on him, he stands out too much”.

She tried to keep her voice low “Stephen you know he doesn’t like men”

“Well I’d really like to be able to use him Vivy. He looks amazing on camera and I don’t want to waste the investment”. Stephen had a point, Ismat wasn’t just stunning looking, his personality came across beautifully when he trusted his handler.

Another sigh she couldn’t suppress came over the line and Stephen knew she’d do her best. “She says she needs a little more time to make the arrangements. Something about her dog”.

Sharon smelled a rat “You’re joking?”

It was Stephen’s turn to sigh, his optimistic front dropping “I know Vivy… I know” after a beat he added “Hey, can we give Erbo a sword?”

After a moment to think about the minor character’s storyline in the fourth book, she answered succinctly “No”.

“Aw, man. That would’ve looked so cool!” Stephen started speaking to someone else about ditching the sword as he ended the call.

Sharon got off her mobile and turned to find a row of attentive faces. She halfheartedly tried to mime a cheerful one “Megan’s still settling things for the move”.

She saw her own pessimism reflected in some of their reactions, quickly followed by an unsettled air. She could almost hear them all worrying that filming might get set back and cause massive scheduling problems for everyone involved. James was the first to speak up and say what everyone else was thinking “Do you have anyone else in mind?”

The search for Lufian had been a nightmare, Sharon had her own qualifications she’d wanted met, but Stephen had been particularly prickly about the character. Megan had been the only one to fit the profile, pass all the producers, AND receive Stephen’s approval.

“It’ll be fine” Sharon assured. James’s cheeky grin said he wasn’t so sure, but a safety briefing began, fortuitously ending the conversation.

When it ended the Hyrdian’s were brought out to meet the horses they’d been assigned. The other tables were chaos as the actors were sized up to be matched to the rest of the ‘standard’ horses.

Dewey green fields spread out in every direction around the loam filled arena, the morning air smelling of leather, horse, hay, and wood shavings.  There was brief disorder outside as helmets were handed out and trainers found the riders assigned to their charges. A magnificent stallion standing front and center behind the nearby fence took the opportunity to show off his displeasure with them, rearing high and striking his hooves in the air.

His was stunning, a beautifully dished head and impeccable sleek confirmation, his pale gold coat glistening with an almost unnatural metallic shimmer in the bright morning light. Impressive as his antics were, the stallion’s large blue eyes were focused anxiously on the group before him while he snorted and pawed.

The excited chatter came to an abrupt halt as all eyes went to the horse and they each silently hoped the stallion wasn’t meant for them. His handler came forward and addressed the horse with almost lazy exasperation “knock it off you”. Her eyes looked over the group while she distractedly calmed him and when Sharon approached she immediately asked “Where’s Megan?”

The horse wasn’t struggling anymore, but neither was he particularly calmed, blowing heaving breaths as he stepped towards Sharon and nudged her. She held her ground and pushed back gently but firmly, scratching his cheek right where he liked it when he stepped back. “Not here. Change of plan, Stephen wants to see if he takes to Tom or Ben?”

The tiny trainer gave her a darkly skeptical look before she called out to the other trainers to hold off on Ben and Tom. The rest of the group was being led off to their mounts and the men turned back to Sharon with apprehensive curiosity.

“Gentlemen, this is Ismat”. She smiled reassuringly as understanding dawned in their eyes, confirming they’d heard most of her earlier conversation. _Please behave Ismat!_ “

“We’re going to see if he works well with either of you. Tom, I think we’re going to try you first since it’ll be less obvious if we change out your horse”. Ben’s horse was explicitly stated in the books as being white, while Tom’s palomino was only a slightly redder shade of gold to Ismat’s cremello coloring.

Tom stepped forward, calmly exuding confidence without being brash. Ismat didn’t shy when he approached, but his eyes and nostrils widened in expectation. He calmed as Tom spoke to him in a low sure voice, eventually smelling him and calming enough to stand sedately while he patted his neck. After a while he seemed his usual self, but when Tom stepped around to the mounting block, Ismay danced away.

When he responded to Ben in the same manner, Sharon asked his trainer hopefully “Cy… do you think he’s just having an off morning?”

Cypress grinned “Hop up and find out”.

Sharon sighed and rolled her eyes, thankful she’d dressed for the occasion. Ismat was a perfect gentleman while she mounted and responded to the slightest leg pressure and lay of the reins, clearly not having an off day. In fact he calmly halted when a nearby horse, struggling to understand his inexperienced rider’s cues, frustratedly danced sideways and nearly bumped into him.

After a lap around the arena Sharon reined in next to Cypress, who was grinning self-assuredly at her. She was head trainer for the production, and preferred to go by her last name since she already had two ‘Jessica’s’ on her staff. “Looks in fine form to me, I still say we could have cleaned up at the dressage competitions with him”.

Ben winked up at Sharon “That was some fine riding, particularly for someone who doesn’t know how to ride”.

Cypress scoffed and Sharon hid a smirk by bending down to pat Ismat’s neck “There _are_ some people in Texas who’ve never ridden… I’m just not one of them”.

They’d spent the better half of the morning trying to get Ismat to cooperate. He settled enough to allow the men to brush him, pick his feet, and lead him around, but he still danced every time they tried to mount. Eventually they all conceded defeat and brought out the horses originally intended for the actors.

She and Cypress stood at the fence and watched the rider’s progress as the they circled the arena in pairs or on lunge lines, discussing the issue amid Cypress’s deafening shouts of advice to the riders. She never took her eyes off them throughout the conversation “When is she gonna be here?”

Sharon bit her lip “I honestly don’t know”.

Cypress sighed and then winced as a rider passed by on the lunge line, he’d accidentally signaled a trot and then flopped in the saddle like a sack of potatoes before a trainer halted them “Well I guess it’s not a complete loss, starting this early, some of these guys are as green as they come.”

She paused to gesture to another trainer to allow some of the more experienced riders to show their skill with a trot. Sharon watched handsome rider after handsome rider prance past, proudly displaying their prowess. It was sexily distracting until Cypress‘s yell startled her out of it “Loosen up your knees!”

“Thank goodness the rest of the leads all seem to have some experience, but I really wanted to have Ismat working in the mix from the get-go. He needs all the confidence he can get once they’re on set if we want to keep his silly boogeymen fear under control.” Cyprus squeezed her hands on the fence and lowered her voice “Best horse I’ve ever worked with if it weren’t for that one issue. I wish I could find the bastard who put that fear in him; I’d take a twitch to his b… Heels Down!”

The process was a well-oiled machine considering the insurance and lawsuit nightmare it could have posed, Cypress picked her people and horses well. The eagle eyed human society stood watch at all times, but hadn’t had any concerns so far.

Other than some high-strung behavior from nerves, in the horses and the riders, the rest of the morning went off without a hitch and they were soon off to the studio, most of them walking with the comically sore and stiff gaits typical of someone who hasn’t ridden regularly in a while. Sharon exited the barn behind Tom, Richard, and Ben, unabashedly captivated by the view. All three were gingerly rubbing their sore bums on the way to the cars. _Yes, it’s a good thing we started early._


	7. Chapter 7: Attire and Ass-kicking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When film studios snatched up the rights to the phenomenon that was newly bestselling author Sharon Swords’ record setting book series, she had no idea how much work and adventure lay ahead of her in bringing her creation to life onscreen. Or that she might become the object of affection for a couple of the captivating actors collaborating closely with her on set. Will she end up producing a blockbuster or a scandal? Either way, her fantasies are about to becoming maddeningly real.   
> There are unexpected developments at the camera tests.

Compared to the efficiently streamlined process at the farm, the costume fittings appeared to be absolute chaos. Frazzled assistants were running to and fro, with no one stopping to greet the new arrivals. After they’d exited the cars, the cast milled around in a tight group on the lot, groaning about sore muscles and laughing in self-depreciating comradery, continuing the good natured ribbing and highly subjective comparisons of their assigned equines.

Sharon was only half listening as she glanced around the lot, a foreboding worry settling in. The lack of some form of reception tipping her off that things were not going as planned. A particularly frazzled PA with a massive clipboard and tiny headset approached at a gallop, reining in her momentum at the last second with an efficiency born of practice “Miss Sword, Stephen needs to see you ASAP!”

Sharon headed off with the PA, and lacking any other instruction, the actors followed them to the hub of all the frenzied action. They filed into a large warehouse-like building not far from the costume department, filing in along the wall and trying to stay out of the way of the harried assistants. Barking orders issued from the sides of lips already employed with the holding of sharp pins, further spurring the assistants on.

There was a cleared and relatively peaceful area in the back of the cavernous room, where a makeshift wall draped with background fabric formed a barricade from the disorder. Stephen was sitting in a row of chairs opposite this, near the new top-of-the-line digital cameras that had necessitated this circus, and a large screen monitor set up to the side for analysis.

He smiled at the actor currently center stage, gesturing and speaking to some of the department heads while they critiqued what worked and made suggestions for what didn’t, Anna madly scribbling down notes for adjustments. The majority of the morning would have been spent doing this for the relatively minor roles, Stephen had been looking forward to it. _So why does he look so stressed?_

He was turned speaking to Anna, the costume designer, over his shoulder when he spotted Sharon and beckoned ominously. Assistants armed with clipboards had begun fetching the actors lined along the wall and leading them to their assigned dressers for the event. Stephen wasted no time on niceties “I’m gonna need you to get your fitting over with right away, we still have a few more minor characters to look at, but I’d like to have yours over with so you can sit in on the leads”.

Sharon nodded dutifully and was whisked away by the wardrobe supervisor, Karen, filling in since her duties wouldn’t kick into full gear until costume design finished theirs. Karen led her to the dressing stalls they’d temporarily erected, since the volume of people today was more than the usual trailers could handle “Yours shouldn’t be too painful, since we don’t have to apply a wig”.

Sharon had only half heard her, still pondering Stephen’s behavior and convinced there was something he wasn’t telling her. She nodded absently as they entered a makeshift stall and Karen expertly acquired and recorded her measurements.

Since all the other actors had already been measured, or sent in their measurements weeks ago, Sharon’s size had been guessed at. The elegant dress was too loose and Karen set to pinning it while a member of the makeup staff tried to work around her. It was complete turmoil and Sharon had to keep reminding herself not to lock her knees in the warm crowded stall.

When Karen finished Sharon was rushed to an improvised hair and makeup chair to finish and Louise appeared in the mirror behind her. Sharon groaned.

Louise grinned with evil glee and rubbed her hands together “That’s right baby! I told you I was going to get my hands on that hair!”

“Isn’t there someone more important you should be working on?” but Sharon smiled despite herself as Louise jumped right in and began working, skillfully tugging through her hair with the casual efficiency of experience honed to second nature.

“Damn! Where the hell have you been, on a farm?” Spray bottles appeared and a comb dragged through Sharon’s hair. Trying to think of her happy place and ignore the constant tugging, Sharon set her jaw and closed her eyes. Her happy place was regularly infiltrated by the occasional delighted cackle from Louise.

Once the worst of the tugging was past, Sharon focused on the conversation between the two women, a hilarious commentary on the sex appeal of the ‘mancandy’ inundating the place. The majority of which, due to the constraints of professionalism, were communicated through innuendo and grunts. “I don’t know how you can handle all that attention Viv. I’ve got to go get Tom ready now, so you better tell me what your secret is or my hands are going to shake”.

The image of Tom this morning, dripping wet in an errant bath towel, came to mind and Sharon inadvertently whispered “holy hell”. She opened her eyes to find both women grinning down at her knowingly and changed the subject, catching her reflection in the mirror between them.

Louise had tamed her hair into an elegant concoction of flowing waves with a few small intricate braids restraining the upper half, woven through with tiny jeweled accents. Her makeup had been done in a clean, almost minimal, style and yet she’d never been more beautiful. She stood at their prompting and the gown flowed around her, making her look every inch like a princess.

She turned her eyes back on her two miracle workers, her mouth hanging open in shock “but I’m only playing a lady in waiting”. They glowed with pride before teasingly shooing her out to join Stephen.

Her moment of enjoyment was brief; behind the scenes cameras were nearby and zeroed in on her immediately. Any feelings of self-confidence her appearance had given her a moment ago melted under the focus of that lens. She backed around the corner towards the stall again, almost unconsciously hoping she could slip inside again to avoid them, and collided with a tall hard body outside the entryway.

Behind her a familiar voice smoothly intoned “Pardon me my lady” and she whirled to apologize. Tom had a playful smirk on his handsome face, but gentle awe replaced it when he got a good look at her.

Sharon started to press her fingers to her mouth in embarrassment, and remembered she couldn’t touch her makeup “I’m so sorry Tom. I swear I’m not always this bumbling”.

He didn’t respond for a moment, his eyes running up the dress before meeting hers again, a slow admiring smile spreading across his face “Truly you don’t look capable of ever being described as bumbling. You look like a princess, Vivy”.

The compliment exuded tender sincerity when accompanied by his earnest gaze. An effect she ruined completely “That’s what I said! But I’m not supposed to look like a princess; I’m only a Lady in waiting”.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she berated herself, _you could have just said thank you Sharon!_

Tom effortlessly saved the moment by looking at her with mock disdain “You’re right…” then glancing around while pointing to her and teasingly declaring “recast!” before grinning at her.

Only a brief laugh escaped her before Karen suddenly materialized from the busy crowd around them and grabbed Sharon’s arm as she passed, announcing without breaking her stride “Stephen’s done with the morning group, you’re up” and tugging Sharon along with her, intent on their destination.

Sharon gave Tom a little helpless wave to say ‘see you later’ as she faded from view. He returned it with the hint of a wistful smirk still on his face before Louise appeared and snatched him into the stall.

When Sharon stepped in front of the cameras she expected playful catcalls and ribbing from her coworkers and friends, she did not expect the dead silence that followed. Feeling like a fool, her stomach twisted and she fought the urge to run before they started making kind remarks and regretting their decision.

Remembering that her reaction was being filmed, she steeled herself and lifted her head. Awe struck faces and wondering half-smiles greeted her, much like her own reaction had been in the stall.

“Damn Vivy!” was all that Stephen managed for a moment but it was enough to break the spell and get everyone talking again. He chuckled and added “I knew you could pull it off, but this is above and beyond!” He glanced down at the monitor and playfully added “Oh! Well now we know how well the camera picks up blushing. That’s gonna look great in the film. You might win an award for that”.

Sharon laughed in spite of herself. They had her walk around a bit and took a few pictures for reference. A mild debate over the shade of her dress ensued and they decided to bring in Emily and compare the effect of both dresses on camera. Once princess Brytta shared the screen it became apparent that they did need a more muted shade for Sharon’s dress, to ensure she didn’t upstage the royalty.

Uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny, Sharon was relieved to scurry off and get out of the get up. Within five minutes she returned, braid jewel and gown free, to find a seat had been vacated for her and Michael was strutting before the cameras twirling a custom made sword like it was a new toy.

He looked dark and intimidating in nearly head to toe black no-nonsense leather, but he also looked a little prettier then Sharon had intended. Another debate ensued over whether they should risk a prosthetic scar with the HD cameras.

“What about a little eye liner?” Sharon’s suggestion was met with silence as everyone contemplated Michael for a moment. Stephen asked the makeup depart to try it out and Michael clasped his hands behind his back and leaned down politely for her to work. Richard’s voice came from off camera, leaden with sarcastic relief “Better you then me mate”.

A titter went up from the group, but everyone went quiet as Michael lifted his head without a hint of self-consciousness, tossing back his dark glossily tousled hair to reveal the results.

The liner brought out the rich darkness of his eyes, perfectly emphasizing their capacity to project cold indifference or arrogant magnetism. Sharon heard someone behind her whisper in an aside “Bad guy my ass. I’d sell my soul to Satan for a piece of that”.

The whisper was drowned out as everyone murmured in agreement that the adjustment worked perfectly for the character. After recording his movements and taking a few reference shots, Richard was up. Michael passed him as he left and threw a wolfish smile over his shoulder directly at Sharon.

Surprised by the innuendo in that smile, Sharon stared at his back a moment before her eyes cut over to Richard. He’d clearly noticed the interaction, but played it off by lowering his head to stare at her meaningfully with his crystal blue eyes and pointed chastisingly, his voice deepened with mock threat “Don’t even think about suggesting any eyeliner for me”.

Amidst the good humored sniggering, Sharon teased “Aw, what’s the matter Richard? You’re not a fan of guyliner?” prompting everyone, including Richard, into a hearty laugh.

He strode into the middle of the camera field and smiled charmingly as he adjusted his long black high-collared peacoat style jacket, looking like sex on legs. Very long legs. Sharon fought the urge to just rest her face on her hand and stare appreciatively at him. _These guys are going to be the death of me._

Richard smirked sexily at her and she immediately remembered herself and straightened up, while he dropped his head and chuckled at her reaction. A knowing smile was on his lips when he raised his head again to look at the camera for consideration and Sharon blushed. Again.

Most of the main cast would be clad in form fitting leather below the waist, but appropriate for riding and fighting. Sharon had spent a surprising amount of time going over little details like this with Anna and she heard her click appreciatively from behind her as Richard strode in front of the camera, murmurs of agreement followed, as well as a dreamily expressed thank you and giggles.

After a stunning display of elegant sword handling, Richard finished and they moved on to watch Jenifer parade regally before them, looking every inch a queen, Sharon leaned towards Stephen and asked the question she’d been dreading “What’s up?”

Stephen hardly glanced at her, but the earlier tension in his posture immediately came back and he whispered carefully “We have a major problem”. He resumed a normal volume of voice and turned to Anna “That reminds me, did you find someone to model Meagan’s costume?”

Anna lowered her eyes from Jenifer and frowned “It’s already been tailored to her measurements and I don’t have anyone on hand that matches”. Meagan had a notably petite, though athletic, build with a fair amount of curves.

Further irritated, Stephen sighed “We need to see all the lead costumes together”.

Anna tried for a soothing tone, but was just as annoyed as Stephen “I know…”

Karen butted in and cut her off “Um, Anna. I think maybe you should look at this”. Karen hesitantly passed a piece of paper over from her ever present clip board, but the smile on her face was one of anticipation. Anna stared at the paper a moment and then gasped, turning her eyes up to Sharon and guffawing in delight.

“Well look who’s a perfect match” she sing songed as she passed the paper to Stephen. He glanced down at it and started grinning too. Sharon leaned over to get a look at it and realized they were passing around the measurements Karen had taken earlier. Her measurements.

“No!” more delighted laughter broke out as Sharon was hustled back towards the makeshift stalls, protesting with increasingly louder assertions of “No!” as the delighted party propelled her along.

One hair straightening, a set of knee high boots, snug fitting dark breeches, a dark linen shirt with a simple open tapering neckline, and brown leather armor in the form of an unrevealing corset and a set of delicate armband style rerebraces and sturdy leather vambraces later, and Sharon was marched before the committee a second time.

This time somebody gave an impressed whistle of appreciation. Janus, Stephen’s director of photography, looked up from the monitor and gently exclaimed “I’d say you nailed that one Anna!”

Stephen smiled bemusedly, evaluating Sharon with a critical eye. The head of the prop department handed her Lufian’s sword and Stephen cocked an eyebrow expectantly. Sharon sighed and rolled her eyes, prompting Stephen to elbow Janis in anticipation.

She lined up with the camera while she tested the heft of the blade in her hand. Fascinated by the film’s dedicated creative departments, she’d spent a lot of time playing there and had a hand in crafting this particularly exacting Szabla style sword with Daniel, the shop’s weapon designer. She’d handled it many times during its forging process, but the wickedly curved finished product was a thing of beauty.

After an appreciative nod to Daniel, she set her feet and flashed the weapon in a showy spinning figure eight as she pivoted and crouched through a string of moves intended to show off the weapon’s lethal elegance, in keeping with the particularly efficient and graceful fighting style she’d written Lufian with.

She concluded to a roomful of stunned silence, even the chaos near the stalls had stilled to watch. Just when Sharon didn’t think she could possibly feel anymore like a fish in a bowl, she noticed Ben and Tom standing off to the side of the camera.

Ben grinned and winked, either in encouragement or appreciation. Tom watched her with one eyebrow raised over his intense blue eyes, an openly admiring, almost intimate, look on his face that made her knees feel a little unsteady. It didn’t help that both men were in full costume, like something out of her fantasies. Leather coats, boots, and sword belts, slightly long sexily tousled curls expertly styled.

Sharon didn’t realize just how obviously she’d been staring until Stephen cleared his throat. She turned beet red and cast her eyes around the room, relieved to find that most people were chattering excitedly and hadn’t actually noticed her gaping like a codfish.

Embarrassed, Sharon turned her eyes back to Stephen instead while the cameras flashed and she waited for instructions. Stephen kindly asked her to check in on an issue he’d just receive word the stunt department was having, allowing her a graceful exit while Ben and Tom took the stage.

Feeling an odd combination of silly and assertive walking around outside in the costume, she entered the mat covered stunt building to the sound of a heated argument.

\-----------------

The camera and costume tests were nearly done when Stephen came into the stunt department looking for Sharon. He needed her for a group shot, particularly anxious to see if Lufian’s and Beorgan’s costumes gave off the subtle complementary effect they had been aiming for, without giving up to much of the similarities shared with her sibling’s style of dress. After he and Tom began looking for her Stephen recognized she hadn’t come back from checking on the stunt crew.

Tom had followed him to the cavernous metal building, chatting animatedly as they entered the brightly lit cross between a gym and a room padded in primary colors, the grunts and thuds of falling bodies randomly echoing off the walls of mirrors. They both stopped abruptly to watch as the stunt coordinator, too intent on his work to notice them, began an intense introduction

“Now. We’re going to set this up, One. More.Time, and I really need you to pay attention and get it this time Debbie”. There was a dramatic eye roll from a heavily muscled blonde nearby as he continued, miming the steps of the stunt and counting them off as if they were a dance number, pointing out critical spots where momentum and placement had to be exact.

When he finished he turned to the fighters at the end of an elaborate mat set up, intended to imitate the terrain of the set “Are you ready?” The men nodded solemnly, their stance and muscles shifting in preparation. The coordinator turned to the opposite side of the setup and signaled with a curt waving motion.

The entire scene erupted into an organized melee as a group fight scene played out, the bright padding might have made it look like childs play if it weren’t for the intense expressions of concentration on the well-muscled men’s faces. Suddenly Sharon came bolting into view, smashing through a coordinated attack with padded sticks that served as swords for the crew.

In a display of effortless skill, similar to the fluid motions she’d showcased for the camera earlier, Sharon quickly dispatched those in her vicinity or sent them flying as she passed in an impressively elegant and imaginative choreography demonstrating her martial proficiency.

Tom stood riveted as he watched a routine he immediately predicted would become a moment audiences would be talking for years. Stephen just smiled proudly, obviously familiar with Sharon’s proficiency in this arena.

Halfway through the ‘set’ she hit a spring board and somersaulted over the heads of the men at the far end, throwing her ‘sword’ midair to take one out before catching hold of the rock wall beyond them. She clung to the wall while throwing a few well aimed shorter sticks from her belt at the would-be attackers of the man below her. Stephen smiled cheekily at Tom and pointed out the man Sharon was defending “That’s you.”

Immediately after receiving this tip, Tom watched as Sharon deliberately dropped off the wall, as if it had proven treacherous and given way, and in an effortless display of trust the man below her caught her, expertly breaking her fall. There was thunderously delivered clapping and deep whoops of enthusiasm when they finished.

The blonde, Debbie, stood with hands on hips clearly irritated and called over the noise at the coordinator “I still don’t understand why we aren’t using the wires for this, Ronnie”.

There was a collective groan before he patiently replied with a well-rehearsed explanation “It’s going to be done as one continuous shot, and the wires are not conducive to the character’s fighting style Debbie, the sword will get caught up in them. Sharon proved to me it could be done, she’s proved to you it can be done”. He paused and added significantly “Can you do it?”

The current of irritation in the room suggested this argument had been going on for a while and an ultimatum had just been delivered.

Debbie confidently squared her shoulders at the stunt coordinator “I can”.

While the set the stunt up again Sharon noticed Stephen and Tom and inconspicuously stepped out of the way of the professionals, joining the new arrivals. Tom wasted no time in getting to the point “How the hell do you know how to do that”.

Before Sharon could do more than respond with a bashful grin, Stephen helpfully supplied “There’s something to be said for keeping kids out of your hair” without taking his eyes off the stunt setup.

Sharon rolled her eyes and Tom waited for an explanation to the odd statement. “I was a change of life baby. By the time I came along my closest sibling was nearly a teenager, and the oldest was twenty. With seven older kids in the house my mother tried to keep the peace by keeping us all busy or happily isolated, particularly me since I was the youngest so deemed the most annoying by default. I spent a lot of time at lessons. Particularly gymnastics”.

The run through had begun again and Tom had to raise his voice over the theatrical grunts “They don’t teach martial arts in gymnastics”.

“No, but I had my fair share of those lessons too… and I had a good reason to get back into it in college. My dojo instructor there turned out to be an expert in several forms and thought I had potential so he brought me on board for their group performance sessions and I… well I did a lot of training and showing off”. She laughed ironically. “Never know what’s going to come in handy for writing…” she gestured at the stuntmen “…and now this”.

Their conversation was cut short by a sickeningly loud pop followed by a screech of pain and an ominous thud from the mats. They turned to find Debbie laid out just beyond the springboard, writhing in pain as Ronnie and several of the closest crew ran to offer assistance.

\-------

Once they knew the situation was under control and there were no life threatening injuries, Sharon and Tom allowed themselves to be sent back to the camera platform for a group shot. They walked in awkward silence at first, both still worried about the injury they’d just witnessed.

Though she kept deliberately finding other things to look at along the way, her eyes kept drifting back to him for a peek. Anna had really outdone herself with the lead costumes. The tightfitting leather showcased a lithely muscled and beautifully proportioned frame, while somehow accentuating the raw strength his elegance could sometimes conceal, reminding you with a glimpse of powerfully muscled thighs, or his surprising height, that he was more than just a handsome gentleman, he was a force to be reckoned with. A very male force.

An effect that his long curls and vulnerably wide blue eyes juxtaposed and complimented in a way that would certainly push the audience’s buttons. She tried to ignore how much it was pushing her own buttons, when he recalled her previous distraction “Do you think she’ll be able to do it?”

“Who, Debbie?” Sharon sighed, unwilling to say out loud what she knew her instructor would have said, that she knew the form for the fighting style the production had settled on for the character, but she didn’t have the agility to retain it with momentum and handle the sword gracefully. “She’s used to working on wires, she’s great on them, but her center of gravity has shifted to compensate.”

Sharon swiped her foot over the gravel crunching under their boots, her voice lowered in concern “Ronnie kept hoping she’d sort it out with practice” she’d had a couple months to prepare already, and Sharon hadn’t seen a change yet, which had led to the situation she’d been called into this afternoon.

“How long do you think it’ll take her to recover? Tom asked, his voice full of compassion for the injured stuntwomen.

“Honestly I’m pretty sure I heard her calcaneal tendon rupture”. Sharon hung her head in sympathy and frustration “That pop when she landed? I think her Achilles tendon tore. If it did… she’ll be out for at least a year”.

Tom frowned and Sharon wondered if he was worrying about Debbie, or about the fact that this production was beginning to look incapable of staying on schedule.

After a hair and makeup touchup, Sharon was uncomfortably ensconced with all of the beautiful people and the group was posing subtly in character for the last few pictures, when Stephen came in. Judging by the grin on his face, Sharon had been mistaken about Debbie.

Tom noticed it too and leaned around from behind her, one hand on her waist and one on her shoulder, the warmth of his seemingly innocent touch percolating through her clothing and seeping into her skin as he gave her a winningly reassuring smile and a wink.

After the actors disbanded to remove their costumes, they milled around again, still keyed up despite the long day. They began gathering by the doors, standing off to the side, trying to stay out of the crew’s way while they talked animatedly. When Sharon emerged from the stall in her street clothes she immediately set out to find Stephen, anxious to know how Debbie was and to get to the bottom of the tension she’d picked up on all afternoon.

When she passed the group for the second time, still unable to locate him, Ben reached out and touched her arm “Vivy! It seems there’s going to be quite a few of us heading over to the Swollen Duck for a drink. Party wouldn’t be complete without you, say you’ll come?”

Sharon dragged her eyes away from the hopelessly crowded floor before her, giving up on finding Stephen in the harried activity of the building, and met Ben’s eyes. Anxious as she was to get home and decompress, the genuine warmth and sincerity of his manner, the tantalizing promise of a good time in his voice, made her almost ashamed to even consider going home to her cold tiny empty flat.

“I don’t have a car” she wasn’t sure if she was stalling, or agreeing.

Ben grinned, clearly determined that it would be the latter “I’ll drive you. Right, it’s settled then!”

The declaration seemed to be some sort of signal, prompting everyone to begin filing out the door, the ceaseless chatter continuing all the way to their cars. Ben placed a hand on her lower back to help steer her through the group towards his vehicle. Sharon heard someone up ahead enquire after her, and Ben cheerfully called over the heads of those between them “I’ve got her”.

The crowd thinned out as they fanned across the lot, and Sharon felt the first twinges of worry begin as she thought about the inevitable prospect of making one on one small talk in his car. She was thoroughly distracted when Ben stopped short and grinned impishly at her as she belatedly realized he was waiting for her to join him beside a motorbike.

Her eyes shot up from the helmet in his outstretched hand to his smug smile, anticipating her reaction. She decided not to give him one, and casually took the helmet, prompting him to raise an intrigued eyebrow before he slipped his own helmet on.

Her hands were threatening to start shaking while she watched him throw a long leg over the bike and start it, only remembering to climb on behind him when he glanced back to check on her. She clambered on behind him and tried to find her balance as her backed the bike around to line it up to pull out of the stall.

“Hold on tight”. The bike roared to life and she was trying to figure out if she was supposed to hold on to the seat or Ben when he released the clutch and she decided she needed something a little more substantial, throwing her arms around his waist. The play of lean muscles shifted under her grip as he leaned to guide the bike out of the lot. She realized he was chuckling as they pulled up to the security gates.

The momentum on the lot was nothing compared to the force that pushed at her when the bike growled out into traffic and she tightened her grip as he brought it up to speed, clinging to his solid security as he navigated the short distance to the pub. They arrived long before the others, the bike affording them the easiest route and parking space.

When he cut the engine and took off his helmet Sharon had to coax her hands into letting go of him, unsure if she might inadvertently make the bike tip or something while she pulled her helmet off. “Did I crack your ribs?”

Ben laughed and shook his head to redistribute his curls and answer her question. He held the bike steady while she attempted to climb off, feeling a bit wobbly. He grinned back at her ‘Steady!”

Hastily smoothing her hair she was about to make a sarcastic retort, but misjudged the length of his legs while he straddled the bike, and her foot bumped against his. She stumbled towards the windscreen and Ben reached out a long arm, looping it around her waist and pulling her up against him. She’d instinctively reached out to steady herself, placing a hand on his thigh, perilously close to where his legs were splayed. _Why do I turn into such a fucking klutz around you guys?_

Heavily suspecting she’d said it aloud, she quickly looked up to find Ben’s face just inches from hers, and if his smile didn’t confirm it, his softly spoken reply did “I must say, I don’t mind. There’s something to be said for the occasional damsel in distress”.

Overwhelmed by the proximity of those eyes, the Cupid ’s bow lips, and the deep timbre of his quiet words, Sharon lost the ability to respond and belatedly remembered to withdraw her hand. His arm tightened around her while he stood up from the bike and he smiled at her telling response. Keeping his arm around her as he casually stowed the helmets and walked her inside the pub to wait for the others.


	8. Pubs and Princes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When film studios snatched up the rights to the phenomenon that was newly bestselling author Sharon Swords’ record setting book series, she had no idea how much work and adventure lay ahead of her in bringing her creation to life onscreen. Or that she might become the object of affection for a couple of the captivating actors collaborating closely with her on set. Will she end up producing a blockbuster or a scandal? Either way, her fantasies are about to becoming maddeningly real.   
> Sharon spends an evening in the pub with the film's princes but things get unexpectedly out of hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song showcased in this chapter is ‘I won’t give up’ by Jason Mraz. I recommend listening to it. I’m so sorry this update took so long. Life keeps getting crazier and I’m still trying to find that balance. I’m having some computer issues too so hopefully there are not any weird typos here. It’s a long chapter.

The oddly named pub was a quaint little two storey Victorian. Sharon halted in the doorway when she caught sight of the impressive bar that took up nearly half of the original first floor. Ben slipped away to catch the attention of the manager, no doubt warning him that his nearly empty establishment was about to receive a rather large party for a weekday. The news seemed to invigorate the entire staff as they were shown round to an observatory style room along the side of the building.

A small garden was visible on the far side the room at the back of the pub, lined with picnic tables and strung with white twinkle lights. Sharon took a seat at one of the tables and turned to admire the view while Ben ordered their drinks.

The, now familiar, cacophony that announced the rest of the cast began to filter in. It seemed everyone had decided to wind down from the days excitement by heading here. Complete chaos ensued as tables were moved, food and drink suggestions were bandied about, seats were taken, then abandoned, then rearranged as everyone settled in with their chosen conversation partners of the moment.

Ben turned around with drinks in hand just as Sharon turned back to the table and found she was flanked by Richard and Tom as they settled into the seats beside her. A brief tightening of Ben’s lips was mirrored by Michael as he entered behind Ben and paused before settling for the adjacent seats. Ben smiled as he passed her drink to her and she latched onto it like a lifeline, smiling her thank you to him since an attempt to say anything would be useless till the disordered room settled.

Sipping the drink gave her something to focus on, rather than driving herself crazy trying to figure out what the hell she’d missed… or done. Because an undercurrent of competitive tension filled the air, and though she couldn’t fathom why, she was clearly at the center of it. Not a position she was comfortable with.

She tried to shake off the perception of her tablemates that had her social anxiety in overdrive, and enjoy their stunted and half yelled conversation, but Michael subtly winked at her while trying to catch her eye and she found herself deliberately casting her attention around the room instead.

Last night she’d been able to hide behind the slightly more formal atmosphere of getting to know coworkers. Tonight felt distinctly different. Tonight felt like being in a bar where anything could happen with four gorgeous men throwing enough signals her way to confuse a referee. She certainly was befuddled by it all.

More people were filling in the door, including members of the production beyond just the cast, and Sharon caught sight of Lucy. She already had a huge glass of Weissbier in her hand and a spent shot glass in the other.

Tom brought her attention back to the table as the room began to quiet for food orders “Gentleman, I must say, you missed quite the show today” he lifted his glass in salute to Sharon. She managed a small gracious smile and lowered her eyes, unable to hold his gaze for any length of time without feeling a tightening in her chest that seemed to speed up her heart.

While all the men at the table were handsome and accomplished flirts, Tom was going to be a real problem for her, a distraction she couldn’t afford, she could already tell. Developing an unrequited crush was guaranteed to keep professionals in this industry from taking her seriously.

Tom began to regale everyone with the stunt sequence he’d watched her perform earlier. Sharon caught herself sipping her drink just to give her something to hide behind while she was the topic of conversation. Her empty stomach reminded her that might be a bad idea so she distracted herself from his graceful hand gestures and beatifically smiling face by subtly texting Lucy under the table. “ _Eat something”_

Her mobile vibrated a moment later with the expected response _“Eat me”_

Sharon smirked and momentarily returned her attention to the table while she waited for the inevitable second message. Tom was still setting the scene “So they’ve got a massive crew lined up for this fight sequence over this elaborate terrain layout…”

The mobile buzzed again and Sharon glanced down. “ _Just kidding, your set up was too good. I ordered a burger… Worrywart.”_

Sharon smiled fondly while she tapped her response onto the glass screen _“Troublemaker.”_

She sensed her distracted grin was drawing some attention at the table but ignored it. Her phone quickly buzzed again _“Hey, don’t make me come over there and earn my title.”_

Sharon’s grin vanished at the threat, something she had no doubt Lucy was more than capable of doing if she felt Sharon needed to be pulled out of her shell.

_Lucy’s right, it’s a phone not a crutch._ Sharon sighed and laid her phone aside then lifted her head and straightened, making a determined effort to follow the conversation.

The men were all leaned in so that they could catch every word of Tom’s tale in the noisy room. “So they’re ready to go, and we’re anticipating watching this epic fight unfold before us, and who should come bounding into the scene, a vision of martial proficiency and acrobatic dexterity, but Viviana”.

Tom gestured her way and all eyes shifted to her, brows lifted in astonishment as Tom continued enunciating with relish “Wielding a sword in an effortlessly executed routine that the stuntwoman herself, bless her heart, could not pull off”.

Her newly forged resolve to be involved quickly crumbled and Sharon blushingly reclaimed her drink. Having her abilities touted, even by someone else, felt like boasting… and boasting eventually resulted in a let-down. _Don’t overthink it Viv, it was a compliment._

She took a deep breath and reminded herself not to slump as she looked around at the impressed men before her, she managed a smile before hiding behind her glass again with a large sip. Tom added “Vivy did you hear any more about her? Is she going to be alright?”

Unsure if she could make herself heard in the din, Sharon’s shoulders rose and her mouth pursed in concern as she shook her head. The waiter came to take their orders, thankfully preventing any further speculation among them on another possible filming delay.

While the others were amiably quizzing the waiter on what their menu selections entailed, Michael caught her eye with a cocked brow and leaned towards her in an overtly flirtatious manner, his voice low and gravelly “So what other secrets do you have tucked up that fascinating sleeve of yours?”

The alcohol was loosening up her social skills a little but she was always slightly on edge in bars. As her best friend had once put it, creeps seemed to be drawn to her like fruit flies to wine; she’d learned to be on guard.  Michael had an assuming intimacy to his manner she wasn’t sure she wanted to encourage.

Her smile was more cold than coy as she hedged “A lady never tells”.

Undiscouraged, Michael leaned back in his chair and his eyes traveled slowly up and down her as if he were sizing up an enjoyable challenge. The slow smile that followed suggested it was a challenge he accepted with relish.

Richard caught sight of his frank assessment and his eyes quickly shifted to Sharon. Her polite smile fading as she dropped her eyes for moment. Swallowing hard, she quickly raised them again on the pretense of scanning the room, belatedly trying to mask her discomfort.

Richard gave her a reason to focus on him instead “So Vivy…” his tone was solemn, one brow lifted as he regarded his drink, long fingers draping down over the glass, tips on the rim while he contemplatively swirled the vodka inside “how many of these will it take to convince you not to kill me tonight?”

The waiter was setting Tom’s drink on the table and froze in confusion for a minute, giving them all a chuckle.

His ploy worked, Sharon relaxed a little and her sense of humor returned. She pretended to consider his question “I don’t know… enough to forget the writing advice ‘Kill your darlings’… but not so much I can’t type, I suppose?”

Richard beamed, eyes sparkling in merry astonishment “Am I your darling already sweetheart?” He spread his hand over his heart as if he’d been love-struck and motioned to the waiter, waving at Sharon’s glass and his, exaggeratedly mouthing ‘two more’.

She laughingly swiped at his arm and he hung his head, snickering guiltily.

Everyone was quick to laugh at his antics, almost relieved to have an excuse to do so, and Sharon realized Richard hadn’t been the only one who’d taken note of Michael’s attitude toward her, and been made wary by it.

Ben clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation, smirking expectantly at Tom “So… got all your lines memorized yet?”

Tom grinned at the challenge, then set his drink down and leaned in, reciting without inflection “My lord, I insist that you not only interrupt your father’s defense council, but end it.”

The answering smile from Ben was droll with fulfilled expectation as he picked up the gauntlet “Thankfully, my reluctance to disturb my father at council is not dependent upon your insistence, Cousin. What possible reason could you have for making such an unreasonable demand?”

Tom responded in kind, two experts having a friendly spar “My demand is not unreasonable, Cousin. My motives for ending the defense counsel are so that the King can reconvene as soon as possible, with a council of war”.

Grinning again, Ben produced the next short line that would set up a much more challenging exchange for Tom “Our people do not encourage war, Beorgan”.

After a deep breath, Tom easily launched into his string of lines verbatim “This war does not require our encouragement to come upon our people. Freod has just fallen to the Feormynd. They attacked without warning and razed the king’s city. They gave orders to leave no survivors. A small escort removed Prince Raedan from the fighting and brought him here… to seek the protection of his sister’s future husband. His escort say Fyren is already moving units of troops to the south, annihilating the towns of Freod as they go”.

“Oh stuff it!” Michael jokingly interjected, and they chuckled “Are you shitting me with this? Christ! When did you even have time?”

Proud smirks threatened to peek through their self-effacing laughter and Michael continued “I don’t even know my first bloody line yet!” he looked pensive before adding “Some sort of threatening message. Damn it’s right on the tip of my tongue. Send riders to all the towns and villages. Tell them…”

When he faltered and glanced over at Sharon she helpfully supplied “Tell them their kind will be exterminated if they attempt to rally. Inform them their princess, and their allies in Hyrde, are next. Leave them with no foolish hope for any ending but the one that I will bring upon them. If they believe their fate lies in anyone’s hands but my own, they will know no solace beyond that of death”.

Michael grinned as her words jarred his memory and he finished with exaggerated inflection “Wait three days for word to carry, then… burn everything”.

Ben gave her an impressed smile “I’ll bet you know everyone’s lines perfectly, don’t you?”

Sharon shrugged “I spent enough time writing them. I’m sure you’ll know them all better than I do by the time we’re done”.

The waiter set fresh drinks in front of them and Richard turned to Michael, motioning with a finger at his own lashes “You got a bit of something right there mate”.

Michael cracked a smile but didn’t fall for it, teasing “Sod off!” and sending a laugh round the table.

Ben smiled into his drink “Sorry mate, just taking the piss out”.

But Richard wasn’t finished “He can’t help it, a pirate always becomes irate when you take the p out of them” Michael scowled comically while a collective groan went up around the table then petered out into helpless slightly-tipsy sniggering.

A few more terrible jokes and the boys were having a roaring good time, eventually moving on from pirates to the tongue twisters they’d been taught as acting exercises. The added degree of difficulty involved in attempting them after a few drinks made their efforts highly entertaining.

Sharon was content to sit and listen until Lucy made a drive by visit after picking up her next drink from the bar. She unceremoniously plopped the drink down on the table and announced “Speaking of talented tongues, did you guys know Vivy can touch her nose and chin with her tongue?”

All eyes went to Sharon, brows lifted high, their suddenly silenced mouths smirking dryly. She felt her cheeks flush “Long flights get really boring” she admitted lamely, before redirecting with “Lucy can wiggle her ears”.

Lucy lifted a brow, and in retaliation slowly pulled a skewer impaled cherry from her freshly ordered drink. She laid it with a deliberate flourish on a napkin in front of Sharon and grinned smugly around the table “Enjoy the show boys” as she sauntered off she added “it takes her less than fifteen seconds”.

Ben looked down at the cherry “a talented tongue indeed”.

Michael grinned in anticipation and nodded encouragingly towards the cherry “Go on then”.

Sharon hedged “You know… people think that’s supposed to be sexy, but it’s really just awkward to watch…”

The food arrived just then and the rest of the men at the table good humoredly let the topic of the cherry go. She tried to ignore the flash of disappointment in Michael’s eyes as everyone else tucked in.

An hour later the food had been cleared but the conversation was still going strong. They had a late start at the farm tomorrow and no one seemed to be inclined to leave anytime soon. Groups of people were playing the quizzes displayed on a few strategically placed monitors through the little electronic touchscreens at their tables. Those who weren’t playing were milling about, dancing to the songs they’d requested at the touchscreen kiosk, or congregating in ever-shifting groups.

Sharon’s table had become a revolving door, the people and conversation varying every fifteen minutes as different members of the cast came by to have a chat with her. She was dying to get up and move around, and a little voice was telling her she’d better go check on Lucy, but she couldn’t seem to find an opening to do so without snubbing someone.

Eventually Tom came back to the table, shortly followed by Michael, and Sharon was relieved they were filling the seats and slowing the influx of visitors. Being engaging, remembering names and personal details, and making a fresh batch of sincerely intended small talk over and over in the loud room was beginning to wear on her.

Tom took a long thirsty swig of his drink, finishing it off before setting it on the table. He’d been bopping around for quite some time, unable to prevent himself from moving to the music while he visited people throughout the room. It was particularly distracting for Sharon, she’d had to ask people to repeat themselves more than once, and had even lost her train of thought mid-sentence at one point.

“So…” he grinned teasingly, his eyes sparkling with delighted anticipation “Lucy tells me we owe you one for getting us these parts…” his manner tipping her off that Lucy had probably not phrased her nonsense as diplomatically as Tom was repeating it.

Sharon grimaced “Lucy likes to stir things up”.

Tom was still smiling at her, waiting for her to elaborate, and she did “The casting director was interested in my input. That’s all. She and Stephen made the choices and assembled all of ya’ll”. Just as alcohol had brought out Michael’s Irish, Sharon’s hint of Texas had suddenly decided to make itself known.

Tom’s grin disappeared as his lips pinched together over his parted teeth and his eyebrows lifted, stretching his face into a comic expression that widened his big blue eyes, for a moment looking like a mischievous child trying not to get caught laughing. He slipped into a southern drawl instead “Well we are mighty grateful Miss Vivy”.

Sharon squeezed her eyes shut and laughingly dropped her head into her hands. He gave up the affected accent but she could hear the grin in his voice “You did say it would show up”.

When she looked back up into his amused eyes he couldn’t quite wipe the tickled smile off his face as he changed the subject “Are you enjoying living in London?”

“I love London. Truly, I do. I miss a few things in Texas, but I’m a little ashamed how few. Seems like there should be more”. She glanced down at the nearly empty drink “It’s been sort of a relief, to tell you the truth”.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She was tired, had finally started relaxing, and he was surprisingly easy to talk to. It was Michael though, who caught her eye when she pushed the rest of the drink away and looked up. She could see him weighing what she’d meant by the remark with interest.

Tom had picked up on her hesitation and changed the subject again with an encouraging smile “So, what other kinds of lessons did you entertain yourself with?”

“We’ll there was a stint in ballet when I was very young, gymnastics, loads of music lessons though I’m crap at reading music, pottery, archery, tennis, Girl Scouts… you get the picture.” She grinned tiredly “And of course riding lessons and lessons at the local dojo, where they worshiped all things Chuck Norris”.

That got a chuckle before Tom prompted “No cooking lessons?”

Sharon pulled a little breath in through her teeth “The cooking lessons I sort of gave myself. My mom was going through some health issues and I was the only kid still living at home full time, so I homeschooled myself while I looked after her…” her voice lowered ruefully “ended up watching a lot of cooking shows during the day”.

She grinned shyly over the unglamorous origin of this particular skill “at seventeen I got a part time job at a French restaurant to help out with the medical bills. I mostly did dishes and subbed for the hostess, but I worked my way up to Entremetier while I was in college”.

She was shying too close to another uncomfortable topic and jumped on the opportunity to change the subject when Michael offered “No ballroom lessons?”

“No” an ironic laugh followed the denial “but I get by”.

Tom was just opening his mouth to continue the conversation when Ben called his name. He was waving him over to his current group, all huddled around a tablet answering quiz questions. He clearly had something he wanted Tom’s input on.

Tom excused himself and headed for their table, sending up a protest from the opposing team at their rival’s new addition. They were rousingly answered with gestures and catcalls from Ben’s team as they welcomed Tom over.

Michael didn’t seem to take any notice of his departure. He pursed his lips and cocked his head, considering her “I’d like to see that. How about a dance?”

The shy shake of her head as she began to politely decline was ignored. He was already on his feet and pulling her to hers. Joints stiff from sitting so long protested and she stumbled, stopping just short of colliding with him by bracing her hands against his chest. The muscular definition under her fingers reminded her that his tall slender build was also deceptively powerful.

It happened so quickly she blinked up at his confidant smile “Right here?” she glanced around at the crowded room to make her point. He was unfazed and she felt his hand slip round her waist… then slide lower as did his voice, seductively crooning “Come on, don’t you want to dance with me Sword?”

_And this is why you’re supposed to keep a professional distance with your coworkers dammit, you offend him and he could make the whole production fall through_.

Instantly wary at the brazen gesture, she stiffened and then tried to bow out gracefully “Sorry Michael, it’s been a long day”.

_Hold it together, don’t say anything you’re going to regret._

Long fingers grasped the swell of her arse and he leaned in until his lips grazed the shell of her ear “Oh, you’re gonna hurt my feelings? I’ll even let you pick the song”.

He was undeniably sexy, and while many woman had probably fallen for his shamelessly bold advances, Sharon hated being manipulated. She smiled at him, a smile that anyone who knew her recognized as a sign of trouble to come. He mistook it for capitulation and smiled victoriously back at her. She headed for the screen where song requests were entered.

Once she found the one she wanted and queued it to play next, she turned to watch Michael cockily tossing back the rest of his drink and rolling his sleeves up in preparation. Sharon took the opportunity to slip out of sight around another group of people and head for the door to the back garden. The current song was ending and she paused at the door to look back just as her selection began.

He was craning his handsome face around, eyes nearly grey in the pub lighting as he searched for her, when the lyrics to her choice caught his attention _‘Makin like a good one but I call 'em like I see 'em, I know what you are…’_

She watched her message dawn on him as he made the connection and rolled his eyes dramatically. He laughed it off with undaunted good humor, but there was a sense of determination to the way he set his jaw. Within seconds an attractive redhead offered herself up for a dance with him and he took her up on it. Sharon quietly stepped outside.

It was chilly out and the garden was deserted, so she said a little silent thank you for the respite. There were pub speakers aimed at the little garden and white twinkle lights strung over the picnic tables set off to the side. She shimmied to the music a little as Britney sang, just enough to loosen up stiff muscles and get her blood moving.

There was no moon tonight but she was glad to see the stars were out, more brave bright glimmers than she’d ever seen near the city. Stars were one of Sharon’s favorite things, she never failed to wish on them, or thank them. They were a rare site in London, but the smoggy sky-glow effect that usually masked them was sparse tonight and the sky was cloudless, lending an extra chill to the clear evening.

A concerned voice behind her startled her out of her solitude “Everything alright?”

She twisted around and sighed with relief when she saw it was Tom smiling back at her “You can’t really see the stars in London. I miss them”.

He looked up, and like her was slightly awed by the unusual display. He made a noise of appreciation, and after a few moments brought his eyes back to hers.

The beat of the catchy music was still pulsing over the speakers and he shook his head and tsked at her as he came closer “Dancing alone in the garden? It’s just not right. Nobody should dance alone. By themselves? Fine. But alone?” he shook his head again as he halted before her “Nah”.

He cracked a smile at her, clarion blue eyes reflecting the light strands and imitating the twinkling stars. It was mesmerizing until he started to swivel his neck and lift his shoulders, playfully bopping to the beat “Will you dance with me Vivy?”

Sharon couldn’t resist his silly grin and he won a heartfelt laugh from her “Well I can’t let you dance alone, I hear its bad form…” just as she moved to join in with his antics the song ended and the soft slow notes of an acoustic guitar began.

She hesitated, awkwardly unsure if he was game for this kind of dancing when he’d made the offer. Tom slowly slipped his elegant fingers over her hand, his eyes asking for permission as his other arm wrapped around her attentively to splay his fingers on her back. She lifted her other hand and placed it on his shoulder in answer. He pulled her a little closer as the singer crooned _‘When I look into your eyes, It's like watching the night sky…’_

They easily flowed into a simple waltz-like step with the beat, the song and atmosphere seemingly working a spell around them. She couldn’t take her eyes off his, and he wasn’t inclined to let her. With each refrain he seemed to hold her a little closer and she relaxed into him a little more, enchanted by those eyes and absorbing every tangible sensation of the moment, his heat, his scent, his touch, his strength.

Watching her intently, he studied her eyes like he recognized something there, and then ran his thumb up her cheek. “How old is your soul, Vivy?”

They lost the formal frame of the dance, her hands sliding up his shoulders to his neck, his arms wrapping around her and pressing her to him. He lowered his head, capturing her lips in a soft kiss that halted her breathing and kicked up the butterfly flutter that had been brewing since he’d first touched her, stirring them to a full scale frenzy throughout her center.

She threaded her fingers through the curls at his nape and rose up on her toes, seeking more, and getting it. His kiss deepened from tender exploration to the warmth of purpose, the flare of tindered kindling fed into flames of heady sensation between them. The music resonated ‘ _'Cause even the stars they burn…’_

The butterflies were replaced by a sensation much more insistent… need. The heat of it burned through her, stealing her breath, speeding her heart, narrowing her awareness to revolve around touch. He seemed just as affected, leaning into her, his breath rasping, his hands seeking more contact between them, roaming over her to pull her closer.

A raucous cheer went up inside, bringing them back to themselves. They reluctantly withdrew from the kiss, both a little surprised at how quickly they’d gotten carried away, and fell back into the steps of the dance. Every eye contact followed by a shyly appreciative or sweetly bewildered smile until the last notes petered out. _‘I’m still looking up’_

In the silence that followed the muted din from inside suddenly became distinctly clear, alerting them that the pub door had opened “Uhhhhh, Sharon?” a hesitant voice inquired.

She peeked around Tom towards the door, letting her hands drop from his neck, but only as far as his biceps. He turned his head to look back without releasing her from their embrace, both still disinclined to give up the moment despite the interruption.

It was one of the makeup artists; she hurried on nervously while Sharon tried to remember her name “I think you might need to check on Lucy”

Leaning a little further around Tom, Sharon’s brows contracted worriedly “Is she alright?”

The artist spread her hands in a quick gesture of apologetic reassurance, and Sharon remembered her name was Lois “Oh yeah! She’s just… well she’s a little giggly and she’s… listing a bit”.

Sharon groaned and leaned her forehead against Tom, grumbling “I knew I should have checked on her earlier”.

Tom stroked her back “You go check on Lucy. I’ll get us another drink and bring her some water”.

She gave his hand a quick squeeze before following Lois inside.

She found Lucy leaning against one of the tables having an argument with Aidan. Well, Lucy thought she was having an argument; Aiden was deliberately antagonizing her and then impishly grinning at the results each time he got her stirred up. To all outward appearances Lucy was fine, a little opinionated, but fine.

“Hey Lucy, can I have a word?” Sharon called over to her. Lucy looked up and casually held up a finger asking her to wait a moment. Then she directed the finger at Aidan while she made one last point before sauntering away. He slapped his knee in delight at whatever her last words had been, squinty eyed with mirth and giggles over it.

Satisfied that she’d set him straight, Lucy made her way to Sharon. The bar was too crowded to tell if the collisions that occurred on her short journey had been her doing or the other people bumping into her “Sup?”

“I hear you’re drinking everyone under the table”. It wasn’t exactly what she’d been told, but Sharon didn’t want to offend her by blatantly asking how many drinks she’d had.

Lucy waved her hand dismissively “Only had three”.

Sharon couldn’t detect a slur from the short exchange and had seen Lucy handle more drinks than that before without any ill effects, so she fell back on her personal yardstick for these situations. A one to ten scale for just how drunk someone might be, particularly if they were good at physically hiding it. “Okay, inebriation evaluation. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?” The more uninhibited the answer, the higher they ranked.

Lucy grinned deviously and a hiccup cut her off, making her start her answer again “It involves an electric toothbrush” she said coyly and leaned in to wink adding in a stage whisper “Just the handle”.

Sharon’s eyebrows shot up and she tilted her head to deadpan “Ok, so about an 8”.

She kept going though, nonchalantly including random passersby in the exchange “I bought it the same day as my vibrator and I got the bags mixed up”. Then she leaned closer to Sharon and admitted in an overloud whisper “I was a little drunk… and I was too lazy to look for the batteries”.

 “A nine!” Sharon revised, her voice heavy with sarcasm. She lunged to catch Lucy under the arms and steady her as she wobbled “Definitely a nine!”

Michael’s voice issued beside her, equal parts amused and horrified “What the hell qualifies as a ten?”

A short pause for a burp and another giggle and Lucy leaned over obligingly to tell a random patron “It was terrible, I do not recommend it” the woman’s face drew up in distaste. Sharon managed to plop her onto one of the barstools beside them.

“Ooookay, time to get you home!” Sharon glanced around for someone besides Michael that she could ask to tell the others she was leaving, and her eyes settled on the person she had wanted to notify the most.

Tom was standing right behind Michael with their drinks in his hands. Judging by the look on his face while he stared at Lucy, he’d overheard their conversation too. He gave his head a slight shake of astonishment but it didn’t dislodge his bewildered smile as he made a point of politely ignoring the exchange. He handed Sharon her drink and Lucy a glass of water before taking a large gulp of his drink in an attempt to keep his bemusement at bay.

Michael’s face however, settled into a unabashedly huge grin while he watched them with fascinated amusement. Sharon had a feeling he’d never let them live it down and tossed back her drink in annoyance. Lucy took a few sips of water, but the occasional hiccup had it sloshing onto the floor more often than it reached her mouth. “Lu I really think it’s time to get you home”.

Michael brushed against her and leaned towards her ear as he began to set out for the door “Come on, I’ll drive you”.

Sharon whispered to him as he passed “She might get sick in your car” and Lucy giggled in agreement

Michael never broke stride but raised a hand in acknowledgement, finger briskly pointed at the ceiling in a droll ‘point taken’ gesture “Taxi it is”.

Sharon managed to herd Lucy to the front door, a task complicated by Lucy’s internal debate as to whether or not she was actually ready to leave. She got her through the front door just as the cab Michael had hailed pulled up. Lucy balked completely at this, and it became a game in which Sharon looked like she was trying to herd cats... a drunken clingy giggling cat.

Michael solved the dilemma by scooping Lucy right off her feet. Sharon wasn’t sure if Lucy was squealing in delight or making sound effects as he carried her to the car and set her gently inside. Lucy made an attempt to climb back out, but a finger held up in warning and a stern look from Michael made her rethink it until Sharon could climb in.

Michael leaned down to address her inside the car, glancing exasperatedly at Lucy before giving Sharon a winning smile “I’ll see you ladies tomorrow”.

“Thanks for your help Michael” Sharon offered.

He ran his knuckles gently down her arm “My pleasure” then threw a quick “Drive safe” at the driver before shutting the door and headed back into the pub.

Sharon gave the address to the driver, trying to speak over Lucy’s attempts to interject the wrong address and confuse him, when the door unexpectedly opened again.

Tom quickly climbed in carrying an ice bucket, Lucy’s bag, and their coats. “I’m sorry, it took them a bit to settle us up, and I had them throw this in” he held up the bucket and looked pointedly at Lucy “I thought it might come in handy”.

Lucy interrupted Sharon’s attempt to thank him as the cab pulled away into traffic “You paid for our food and drinks? That is so sweet of you. You know, you are such a nice guy… isn’t he a nice guy Sharon?”

Before either of them could respond Lucy continued “I hope they didn’t charge you for my burger, because they lost my order. I reminded them” her nose scrunched up in thought and she rolled her eyes upwards as she searched her brain “and then something else happened to it… I think somebody bumped into the waitress and she dropped it” a large hiccup interrupted her rambling and she concluded with palms raised helplessly and an abrupt lilting quality “and so I never got my burger”.

Sharon had barely managed to mumble “Well, that explains a lot” to Tom before Lucy went off again.

“What was so difficult about a burger anyway? Is it because I’m American? Is that some passive-aggressive British thing?” her sentences streamed together in a slurring attempt at a British accent “We’re too good to make uncultured American comfort foods? We’ll put it on the menu and sit in the kitchen and laugh every time somebody actually orders one?” she carried on, not giving anyone a chance to interrupt her rant.

Sharon turned to Tom and said in a quiet aside “Probably best to let her ramble, it’ll keep her from falling asleep. Her flat’s in a walk-up and she’s much too grown up for me to carry”.

Tom grinned at the absurd possibility and set the ice bucket on the floor, prompting a thoughtful frown from her “Why did you decide to come along?”

“I thought you could use some help” he smiled, a sympathetic twinkle in his eye.

Lucy interrupted them, swinging her hand around with a flourish until her finger was before Tom’s nose. His eyes went big in expectation and then he waited with a mystified smirk while she tried to remember whatever it was she’d been about to declare. She paused, searching for the flitting thought, and then her eyes lit up and she blurted “Are you hoping Vivy is going to spill tea on your pants tonight?” Her mouth screwed up in an attempt at a coolly judging look.

Sharon and Tom stared back at her in confusion.  The odd conversation they’d had the first time she’d met Tom finally occurred to Sharon and she followed Lucy’s meaning “No… Lucy, the spilling tea on his pants was code for ‘I love you’, not ‘let’s have sex’”.

Lucy’s finger flourishing wave brought the accusing digit Sharon’s way and she leaned into the gesture triumphantly “Ah ha! So you ARE thinking about it!”

Sharon felt herself flush bright red as she tried to stutter out a clarification but Lucy happily crossed her arms and leaned back to look out the window with a victorious grin, ending the conversation.

Tom lowered his head and laughed softly, his cheeks pinkened but his smile still mischievously delighted. Sharon tried to frown at him so he wouldn’t encourage Lucy. He straightened and spread his hands in a placating gesture, but his smile widened and he couldn’t completely contain his contagious chuckle.

They pulled up outside Lucy’s flat and Sharon turned away from enjoying Tom’s reaction to discover Lucy was beginning to doze “Oh no! None of that now!”

Lucy’s head snapped up with exaggerated effort, lolling back a moment while she blinked her eyes wide, hoping to convince them she hadn’t let the alcohol get the better of her.

Tom patted Sharon’s knee and climbed out his door to walk around the car and open Lucy’s, offering her a hand to help her out. She decided to play the aristocratic, smiling with mock haughtiness and accepting his proffered hand with grandiose gestures. As soon as she was out of the cab she ruined her queenly performance by teetering into Tom and doubling over to indulge in silent laughter while he supported her.

A giggle snort erupted from Lucy’s stooping form as Sharon exited the cab with her bag and bucket while eyeing the building’s door. She suddenly realized she had no idea which flat to buzz. Tom was quietly chuckling at Lucy’s antics while he patiently supported her and looked to Sharon for their next destination.

Lucy suddenly stood upright “Hey, this is my building!” and covered the distance to the door with a jovially wobbling gait. After a tense moment of seemingly futile rummaging in her bag, she produced the key.

Tom asked the cabby to wait for him and caught up to Sharon as she held the door for Lucy to stagger through “Think you can get her up the stairs?” the amused concern on his face indicated he highly doubted it.

Sharon tried to reassure him and was interrupted by Lucy’s voice echoing out of the building “Whew! It’s hot in here! Is anybody else hot?” The litany of remarks on the temperature of the room continued and Sharon took a deep breath to speak over her.

She abruptly held it. Her eyes widened in panic and she shot into the building leaving Tom to deal with the door. He grabbed hold of it just before it closed and poked his head in.

The small lobby was surrounded by an open series of stairs climbing the interior of the building between floors. Each floor was a square of doors facing each other, all opening out onto the large center stairwell with an elaborate glass skylight crowning the whole affair. After a day of bright sunshine, the small stuffy lobby beneath it was retaining a slight warmth.

Tom glanced around to locate them and was greeted with the sight of Sharon physically preventing Lucy from stripping in the vestibule. Her coat, jacket, and shoes were already cast off on the floor and Sharon had barely reached her in time to keep her shirt from joining them. He started to duck back out when Lucy unexpectedly tottered heavily against Sharon and nearly knocked the both of them down.

“Steady!” he leapt to their assistance and righted them both before fluidly ducking under Lucy’s arm to support her. He returned Sharon’s grateful smile with a wink as Lucy launched into a diatribe on the unfairness of all their “stupid beautiful blue eyes”.

Tom politely listened and playfully interrupted to tease every now and then as he helped her climb the stairs, reminding her of all the actors on the production that “did not in-fact have blue eyes” and Lucy retorted by disqualifying anyone who wasn’t from England.

Sharon brought up the rear, carrying Lucy’s bag and discarded clothing, worrying as Lucy occasionally flagged and leaned heavily into Tom, his muscles standing out against the cloth of his shirt as he worked to keep her upright.  If they didn’t get there soon he might have to carry her “Ah, Lu? What’s your flat number?”

There was a long pause and then Lucy halted their forward motion completely, her face screwed up in intense concentration. Tom shifted under the arm thrown round his neck, about to look back at Sharon in concern when Lucy declared “520!”

They resumed their meandering assent and Lucy’s resumed her drunken babbling until they were nearly at the top of the fifth set of stairs and she halted again “or was it 205?”

The nearest door opened on the landing above and Holly, the script supervisor, appeared from flat 502, her eyes widening at the site before her “Bloody hell, that trip to the pub must have been something if you’re bringing a man back here Lucy! You could have given me some warning you know, I would’ve made myself scarce” she teased.

Tom had been watching their footing on the steps, but looked up and grinned at Holly’s teasing, making her blush to her roots. She started to stammer out an apology when Lucy cut her off “Don’t talk to me about roommate etiquette, you’re the one who went and picked an apartment on the eighth floor of a building without an elevator!”

Tom was completely forgotten as Holly shifted her stance to direct a verbal spar at Lucy and put her hands on her hips “First of all it’s a flat, and a lift, and close to the studio, and for your information there aren’t even that many floors in the building”.

With Lucy’s attention redirected on the argument, she abandoned Tom to weave inside after Holly. Their words still carrying onto the landing as she fired up on the topic “How do you know? This country can’t even number floors correctly!”

Holly sighed “Ground floor. First floor. Why is that so difficult for you?”

Lucy shot back “Because it’s the first floor and the second floor, if I walk into a building and go upstairs I should be on the second damn floor, not the first floor!”

Sharon pulled the door to, muting the noisy antics continuing inside, and turned back to Tom “Thanks for that. I not sure I could’ve managed after all”.

He stood there for a moment, hands in his pockets, regarding her with a beatific smile and those wide enigmatic blue eyes as the din carried from behind the door. He cut a fine figure and Sharon suddenly felt every drink she’d had this evening coursing through her veins “I.. uh”

It was all she managed before she heard Lucy loudly answer Holly not far from the otherside of the door “Nooooo, not me. The gilded Adonis is here for Viv I think” her voice came closer, speaking pointedly at Sharon through the door “but I’ll gladly jump on that grenade if she doesn’t”.

Sharon squeezed her eyes shut while Holly shushed Lucy and lead her away from the door. She gulped nervously before she could open her eyes again “I’m so sorry” was all she could manage to say to Tom’s bowed head.

He lifted his face enough to pin her with one brow lowered over his sweetly amused gaze. His lips compressed in a self-conscious smile as he leaned in towards her “Don’t worry about it” he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and rubbed her arm reassuringly. A thud and giggling echoed from somewhere in the flat “I think you’d best get her to bed”.

He turned and began descending the stairs, his usual agile ease seemed stilted and she wondered if Lucy’s crassness had finally gotten to him or if it was just a result of the long day and the number of drinks they’d had. Every one of which she was now cursing for the awkward way the night was turning out. This certainly wasn’t the way she’d wanted to part company with him.

Five minutes later she was back out on the stairs. Holly had wrangled Lucy into bed and Sharon had left a large bowl, bottles of water and electrolytes, and aspirin on her nightstand next to her phone. Her own alcohol intake was catching up to her, making her fuzzy on top of being completely lost in her thoughts, and it wasn’t until she met the icy cold of the London night and the door to the building closed behind her with a click of finality that she realized she should have called for a cab while she was inside.

A lorry was puttering down the street and she could hear an unfriendly argument echoing down the sidewalk. She held her coat a little tighter as a feeling of vulnerability seeped in from her dark surroundings. The lorry finally moved past and revealed a cab parked across the street.

Just as she was hoping it wasn’t off duty the door opened and Tom emerged, unfolding his elegant frame to stand beside the car and hold the door for her. Relief, appreciation, and excitement washed through her, eroding all her attempts to keep herself in check where he was concerned.

Already halfway across the street her eyes locked on his. He’d read her intent by the time she reached him and pulled her into his arms. His fingers sliding into her hair as she brought her mouth up to his. The need that had slowly built during their last kiss was still lurking just below the surface and exploded over them both at this provocation.

She wasn’t sure if she was shivering from the cold, she certainly wasn’t feeling the frigid night air at the moment, but Tom noticed “You’re trembling. Let’s get you out of here”. He ushered her into the car and Sharon glanced over at the cabby as she scooted across the backseat. He was lost in a book and discreetly oblivious to his fair’s activities while his meter ran.

Tom slid in beside her, closing the door behind him and chafing his hands together before wrapping an arm around her “Where to now?”

Sharon leaned into his warmth “Do you need to go back and get your car?”

Tom cracked a slightly sheepish smile at her “Honestly, I’m a little drunk”.

She lowered her head, suddenly self-conscious of her behavior “Me too”. Reminding herself she was supposed to be keeping a professional distance from her coworkers, she attempted to give a damn about it and take a step back “We should really just head home”.

“Yeah”. He caught her eye and watched her intently, the corner of his mouth drawing back in a seductive smile that took her breath away “Your’s or mine?”


End file.
